Becoming Murder
by Little Boy of Lothering
Summary: It's easier to forget than to live with trauma. Apparently his subconscious doesn't understand this because resurfacing at inopportune moments wasn't part of the deal. Semi-AU but follows the same story line.
1. The Start of Something

So, this is a collection of connecting one-shots. I got an idea from a friend who said "I feel like the manga doesn't tell us anything about him as a kid" which I guess makes sense. And I'm rereading the manga right now and I've decided two things: one, that Kaoru really bothers me (I don't like the whole damsel in distress thing) and two, it bothered me that right after he learned the succession technique, it didn't work. Also that everything is explained during a pause in a fight, but most manga do that so it's okay. And because of this I've decided to be annoying and write fanfiction.

Sort of AU but _could _make sense canonically. Maybe. Takes place both during (including Remembrance) and before the manga. I haven't watched the anime recently enough to add certain things.

And just so you know, I'm mildly dyslexic. Please excuse the typos, I have trouble proofreading. My grammar and what not is good though and it still flows.

(kind of hard to explain why, but he's younger too - it's been five years rather than ten and he served from 13-18 rather than 14-19 so he's about 23. long story)

Disclaimer: nothing you recognize is mine.

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"The Start of Something"

A year from now, a little boy named Shinta will tell Seijuro Hiko, "My parents died last year from cholera."

What the child leaves out is that the day his father first started to show signs of fever, his mother sold him and his older brothers into slavery. At the time she didn't enough strength to work the fields herself and needed some way to pay for medical treatment. He was bought by a slave trader who'd stopped in town almost immediately. When he thinks back on it years later, he realizes that he isn't sure if they died at all and if his brothers ever made it out alive.

"You sure you want this one?" the trader asks when he's handed off to his first owner (like all of them, he repressed the memory too much to remember his name), struggling and squirming until he exhausts his little eight-year-old body. "We haven't broken him in yet."

The slave owner smiles. One of his teeth is missing and a few more are chipped. He smells of sweat, sake, and dirt. He's fat and tall like a rich man and Shinta had always been small and slight for his age; he barely goes past the man's waist. The man says, "I like the young ones best that way."

Shinta doesn't understand this. As a child, he has no reference, no knowledge. He is naive and easily moldable and the trader just shrugs. After the slaves are out of his hands, he doesn't care what happens to them. Even if it is a kid with defiantly narrowed eyes like dark irises and hair like blood and if he hadn't seen his parents himself, the trader would've suspected his mother to be a Westerner.

Once all this is over, Shinta will hate himself in a way that never goes away.

.

Before the cholera, he'd been hit before - hard and often - but that doesn't even compare.

He wakes up to the pale light of night's ending, covered in a scratchy old blanket that smells of horses. He's on the floor and his whole body is in worse pain than the time his brother Akira accidently pushed him down the giant hill. The slave owner's hand is as big as his chest and he doesn't know how many times he was hit, but he knows he passed out after it escalated to -

(he represses this memory too even as it bursts of the seams of his subconscious)

"Good, you're awake," says the man when Shinta's purple eyes roll up to see the faint dawn. When he doesn't speak right away, a hand roughly grabs his short hair and pulls him up. His scalp burns and he can't help but scream, hands clutching tightly at the blanket he somehow managed to grab. Then the man drops him on his feet and his legs can't hold him up from all the bruises and he topples. Cloth is suddenly throw at his face. "Get dressed. I need to make sure I didn't break you beyond repair."

Shinta feels as if he has, but he forces himself to move anyway. He doesn't want to repeat yesterday's experience. In his childish, optimistic mind, he doesn't believe he will ever have to.

But he's wrong. And it never spots hurting.

.

This is the thing about slavery: it doesn't matter how well you behave because the moment you mess up, there comes the hand, or the leg, or any other part of the body that can be used as a weapon.

Shinta never gets used to the pain, but he does get used to being hit. He tries his best to follow orders but he isn't perfect. A dropped plate, a knocked over chair, dawdling too long to get up, dawdling too before helping his owner out. The man isn't merciful and the boy begins to flinch at every twitch of his hand, every creak of the floorboard when the sound resounds from a place to close to his location. He's dropped weight and he was as light as a feather when he was first sold. All ribs can be seen and every ridge of his spine sticks out. Overtime he starts to look more and more feminine.

Then one day his master says, "You're beginning to bore me."

Half a month later and he's in the hands of someone else.

.

His second owner's name he almost lets himself remember but he knows that if he does, he'll remember all of them.

But this man is good to him. He's old and a widower with a leg he damaged badly in battle. In his youth, apparently, it didn't both her, but now that he's gotten on in his years he cannot move as well as he would like. So he buys a slave to do the cooking and the washing and treats him as more of a servant. When he has to go to town to buy supplies, he's given some pocket money to get a sweet if he wants one. The flinching refuses to leave him, but he slowly begins to feels like a person again. He gets a toy out of it too, a small top his owner teaches him how to spin.

After the purchase is made, the old man smiles kindly down at him and asks, "Tell me, child, what is your name?" The boy looks up at him, his oddly colored eyes wide and fringes of red covering his face. He mumbles something. "I'm sorry, but I wasn't able to catch that."

"Shinta."

The name is barely more than a whisper and feels unfamiliar in the boy's mouth. He flinches when a hand touches his hair but it's soft and kind. His owner - no, his _something _that can't quite be named - is quiet in his mannerisms. "Let's go home," he says, "Shinta."

Three months later, Shinta cries at his funeral.

.

After this one commits suicide from a loss of honor, he ends up in the hands in the hands of the second round of traders again. The leader scowls when he sees him and hits him for being too much a hassle. Then he sets off to find someone to take Shinta off his hands permanently. As it turns out, uniqueness is admirable and within three days he's purchased for a third time.

"To never having to see you again," says the trader, raising a glass in the fashion of a toast. Exhaustion is set too deeply in his bones for Shinta to hate him.

The new owner makes the first one seem kind.

It doesn't take long for Shinta to realize his entire purpose is to relieve the man from stress. All of slaves are older and stronger, working the fields and cutting firewood, or young, pretty women to tend the house keeping. No one looks at him when he first arrives, intentionally avoiding his gaze. Since this is not the first time (there was before too and it's this memory, these multiple incidents that makes it so hard for him to just forget), he knows what this means. He's too tired to care.

During the two month period that this ownership encompasses, Shinta is only awake a handful of times or so it feels. He loses tracks of days, of weeks, of months. One of his lungs is permanently damaged, though this is not something he'll find out for another few weeks. His repression begins as early as now.

One morning he looks at his owner, no familiarity on his face, and he asks, "Who are you?"

For that one, he's out cold for a day.

.

This owner is his breaking point.

He's entering his eighth week there. Two days ago he turned nine, though he doesn't know it. The air outside is muggy for the first time this year and reminds him of summer nights at home, trailing after his older brothers as they wandered around the countryside, pretending to be samurai. It's one of his few, solid memories untainted by the neglect of his parents or the grip of a fist around his arm. But then the man is here too and all the bad memories of the past few months come floating back despite the repression, clashing badly with the goodness of his lost childhood in that instant his -

(his large purple eyes flash molten gold and it's then that the owner, as he has his slave against the wall, realizes he's fucked)

mind momentarily splinters.

The boy has almost no strength in his small, abused body at all but a surge of desperation causes him to suddenly lash out, struggling hard enough that the man drops him as he stumbles back. Shinta hits the floor with a thud, smacking his temple against the wood of the floor. Before he loses consciousness, he sees the man's sandal break, the seemingly slow fall downwards, and the base of his head crack against the corner of the desk. Even only half alive himself, Shinta knows he died.

Life gets better, after that.

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"Shinta is too soft for a swordsman," Seijuro Hiko tells him as they stand in front of the graves of the three women who sacrificed their lives for him. His small hands ache, cracked and bleeding, one cut running up as far as his wrist. There's a scrape on his elbow. His hair is sticky with dried blood, unnoticeable when combined with its color. "Your name is Kenshin now."

This man - this Seijuro Hiko whose name the boy happily, willingly remembers - is the first to see the potential in the lost cause that stands in front of him. His parents always thought he was a waste of space, the traders and owners looked at him as property. But this is different and the man understands it too so he leans down and picks the kid because he sees clearly that he's existing on adrenaline alone by now and it's about to run out.

The boy tenses but compiles and for now lets himself be carried reluctantly. His whole body aches from the walk and the shadows of the week ago beatings and he gives up. For now he is neither Shinta nor Kenshin and neither a slave nor a swordsman in training. Instead he's just a kid with the slightest of hopes and no expectations.

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Review please! Sorry, I just love those. xD Anyways, if you haven't, go read the author's note at the beginning. It's worthwhile.


	2. Transitioning

Thank you for the alerts/favorites and I've already thanked the one who reviewed. :)

Anyways, **this does not go in any particular order. **There will be stories that come before this piece and after, though nothing will be earlier than "The Start of Something."

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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"Transitioning"

"Hitokiri Battousai!"

The redhead stops and Kaoru gets a sight full of fine features and wide, wide light eyes. For a moment she feels unsettled because he looks like a boy no older than sixteen, not some fearsome warrior capable of killing so many in her family's name. But he's the only one with a sword at his waist that she's seen and looks can be deceiving, so she hardens her resolve despite the disquiet in the back her mind.

She continues, trying to intimidate him with her determination, "At long last I found you! Your two months of bloodshed in the streets ends tonight. Prepare yourself!"

In retrospect, maybe shouting "prepare yourself" wasn't the greatest idea in the world, but it's too late to take it back now. As the guy squeaks out something that sounds suspiciously like "Oro!" she charges head on, willing to risk her life if means defending the family name. The cute naivety of the sound irritates her. "Don't play innocent with me!" she shouts. "Who else would ignore the edict and walk around with a sword?"

She attacks with a swipe and realizes too late that he jumped faster than she could fully see and the blow connects with nothing. What truly surprises her, though, is when he suddenly topples backwards, ending up on the ground with a bashful look. Accidently she says, "That didn't take long, Hitokiri Battousai," aloud.

"Rurouni." She pauses before she can do anything else - attack or call loudly for a police officer to come and arrest him. "I'm a rurouni with no family or possessions. A wandering swordsmen. I just arrived in town. I don't know anything about bloodshed in the streets."

A _rurouni_? That's about the last thing she expected. Before she can get distracted, she shakes away the thought, deciding that this needs to be dealt with first. "How would you explain this sword at your waist? Swordsmen aren't allowed to carry real swords."

He removes his katana from its sheath and she puts her own weapon up as defense. He doesn't attack though, instead literally handing it out to for her to take. She accepts it, analyzing because she knows a lot about swords even though she's just a woman. "What's this?" she says, flipping over the blade in disbelief. Okay, she thinks to herself, I have to be dreaming. "A sakaba?"

When he smiles, she gets a good look at him for the first time and realizes that there's no way he could be the Battousai. Not with eyes that kind and face so soft. He holds a certain air of quiet about himself like she remembers her father having and, again, it's doubtful he's any older than sixteen. "Could this sword kill anyone?" he asks.

Though she normally hates being wrong, she'll allow it in this case. For once. "It couldn't," she answers, lightly touching the tip. Even if it's reversed, it's still sharp. "The nicks don't smell of blood and there're no clouds of tallow on the blade. Like it's never been used." She smiles too. "You really just...Yes, a rurouni."

Before he has the opportunity to explain that outside of Tokyo carrying a sword is not unusual, there comes the shrill sound of alarm. Both snap their heads to the general direction of the noise and without thinking she darts, throwing his sword. "The police whistle!" she says more to herself than the rurouni. "This time for sure!"

The young man watches her back retreat and this chance meeting causes her life to take a dramatic turn.

.

It's been five minutes since she met the redhead and in the wake of the Battousai's descending blade, she's already forgotten him. Or, that is, until she's scooped up in his arms, getting pulled away from the scene. Her first thought is, _he isn't human_.

Then he tumbles again, dropping her. She barely has time to straighten herself before she falls too. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

The young man's curled up into himself gripping his sides. In a shaking voice he says, "I think I dislocated my pelvis."

With the adrenaline rushing in her ears and the distraction of her enemy shouting, "I am the Battousai! Himura Battousai of the Kamiya Kasshin School!" she misses one small detail: the rurouni is clutching his ribs, not his hips.

She goes to chase after the Battousai, anger flooding her because this is _her _family he's ruining, _her _livelihood, _her _father's legacy - but there's a hand on her ponytail, pulling her back gently. It's surprise rather than pain that makes her cry out. She turns around, smacking him in the side of the face with the side of her sword. He's still on the ground and says, "He waited long enough. Chasing after a man too far when you're wounded -" The rushing energy in her head blocks out her ability to feel the pain and the dripping of blood is nothing too usual. "- is putting your life in danger. He gave the name of the school so you can track him down without all this haste."

Of course, an outsider knows nothing. "Kamiya Kasshin is _my _school," she says, wanting him to understand. "He's been committing these atrocities in our name!" Even years later, "my" is synonymous with "our" and that will never change. The stranger's already big eyes widen further and - wait, are they _purple_? Yes, she realizes, yes they are. Red hair, purple eyes. If she weren't so panicked, she would've picked up on the oddness earlier. What is this man? But that doesn't matter right now, Kaoru reminds herself, and she turns to run, mind back on her target. "Once I get my hands on him I'll -"

There it is, that hand in her hair again, tugging her backwards. He's standing now and suddenly the dizziness begins and all she can think is _Oh, please, no. _"I said chasing him too far won't help, didn't I?" Even if he's right, who gave this rurouni the audacity to dispense his words of wisdom? "Either way," he continues, picking her up again and considering how dizzy she is, walking on her own seems borderline impossible anyway, "he's long gone." All she can do now is hope this redhead isn't some sort of creep. "But let's leave before the police start to ask too many questions."

.

Red hair, purple eyes, an X-shaped scar. By far the weirdest looks on a person she's ever seen. And people call _her _unique because her eyes are blue. She sits half naked in front of him, for some inexplicable reason not caring, and he doesn't seem affected all.

"Whatever happens," he says, eyes away from her revealed (but bandaged) body, and focused instead on her wound, "you can't keep a night watch with that arm."

"Oh?"

"The best thing for you to do now is act with caution. That kind of philosophy is useless if you get yourself killed." He's at the other end of the room then, hand placed against the door, ready to leave. "Besides," he says with that smile of his again and Kaoru won't pretend her heart doesn't speed up at the sight of it because as weird as he might look, there's no denying that he's the most handsome man she's seen in a long time, "I'm sure your honored father wouldn't want his school protected at the cost of his own daughter's life. Excuse me."

There's an intake of breath, a hit of logic that comes too close to home, and she has no chance to say something before he leaves. His words bounce around in her mind and get absorbed into her subconscious, unwanted but appreciated at the same time.

Then Kiheh tells her, "It's all taken care of."

Her arm already feels better. "T-thanks," she manages to get out, trying to recover from everything that's happened tonight.

"Kaoru-san," her friend adds, "you mustn't let your guard down. After all, rurouni is just another word for failure. You're to kind to such people for your own good."

With speed like that, she can't imagine him as a failure but she doesn't know how to express that without sounding crazy. Besides, he has a point.

"I know, you're right. I'll be more careful for now."

But she won't because in that moment, she knows she's already in love.

.

Here, have a small break:

After Kaoru-san leaves, the rurouni decides to follow the single lead he was given. Not getting involved would probably be difficult anyway, but having someone impersonate him has turned this personal. He wants nothing to do with the title of Battousai, it's true, but it's his burden to bear on his own. Having another man use it as a fear tactic is both disgraceful and annoying.

Now he stands in front of the doors of the other dojo, knocking incessantly. On the eighth, "Excuse me," an irritated man opens the door. "All right!" he says. "What do you want?"

The redhead smiles politely. Just because he plans to negotiate and possibly maim his impersonator if he doesn't cooperate doesn't mean he has to be rude about it. He begins, "About the leader here -" but gets cut off.

"Master Himura -" He bristles at the sound of his name. This is different than a title because Shishou _gave _that to him and though he left him up on that mountain, he still loves him the way a son loves his father. "- is out! Come back later!"

(patience might be a virtue he possesses, but once his temper flares he needs to get the ordeal over with as soon as possible)

"Oh, is he called Himura?"

The man looks down at him, irritation giving way to anger. "You here and didn't even know that little?"

The rurouni shrinks his smile. "No, I was certain he was called the 'Street Killer Battousai,'" he answers, emphasizing _Street Killer _to let the guard understand that he knows the leader is a fake. Shock flits across his face. "Looks like Kaoru-san was right."

"What's the problem, Nishiwaki-san?" a man asks from behind the one in the doorway. "Who's the shrimp?"

Then he's surrounded by at least twenty men and from ki alone he knows their skill level is abysmally low. Normally he doesn't draw his sword for personal reasons, but this is for Kaoru-san as well.

"He's just a rat," says Nishiwaki and he should be happy insults have no effect now. "He's finished."

Within a minute and a half, all twenty-two are taking a nice, long nap.

.

Kaoru has never been a complacent person, never one to give up, so when the Battousai stands in her doorway, she does the only thing she can think of and grabs a sword off the wall. Even if it means her life, she refuses to have her family name soiled like this any longer.

Unfortunately, no stubbornness, no determination, no amount of training can prepare for a fight against a legend and his followers.

It doesn't take long for her shoulder to be struck. With her sword arm immobile, the Battousai is able to pick her up easily, holding her about his head. Kaoru never really believed in her own dying - she's skilled for a women, she too kindhearted, too beautiful, too loyal, too _educated_ - but now she knows she's staring it in the face. His beard looks prickly, his small eyes narrowed with malice. He exudes the smell of blood. Since he's only gripping her by her shirt, it tears and it isn't like when she was with the rurouni, when she didn't feel threatened by the revealing of her body. Now she feels vulnerable and young and thinks that beauty might not always be a good thing because she might be naive in many aspects, but she's still smart enough to know this.

"My goal is violence!" says the Battousai but she's barely paying attention. Kiheh has a knife. "My essence is killing! That's what kenjutsu is about!"

Kiheh cuts her thumb, forces her hand to smudge her own blood across the paper and she hates herself for not lasting longer. "That's it," the traitor says, "the land is ours. The Kamiya Kasshin Ryu is no more."

Then the door slides open. There stands a man, face drained of color and eyes wide with fear. The Battousai asks, "Nishiwaki, what's wrong with you?"

The man says a word she doesn't quite catch before he's tossed aside. Behind him stands the rurouni and she strangely gets the impression that he's annoyed rather than anything else.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he says, directed at her before turning his attention back to the others. "This man told me everything."

"You again," says the Battousai. "Do you believe in 'the sword that protects life' like this girl?"

Though the rurouni seems kind, his "No" is anticipated. He answers, "A sword is a weapon. Kenjutsu is the art of killing. Whatever pretty words you use to speak of it, this is its true nature. What Kaoru-san says are the words of one who has never dirtied her hands. A Utopian ideal."

"R-rurouni," she stutters.

"However," he continues, "when I compare the two, I like Kaoru-san's idealism better than kenjutsu's true nature. If I want to ask so much, I want the world to accept her ideal one day."

No one has the right to be _that _perfect, she thinks.

"Brother," says the Battousai, "you don't mind if I kill him, do you?"

"No," answers Kiheh. "He's in our way. Get the guys to do it."

In that instant, as the men surround him, Kaoru can see it: his small stature his down fall, only one man unable to finish so many, her dojo floor covered in the blood of that lonesome stranger. "Run, rurouni!" she shouts out of desperation but he doesn't listen.

"I don't want to needlessly cause a lot of injuries." Kaoru has learned enough about the different styles of kenjutsu to know the stance he falls into isn't a normal one. "All those who don't like visiting the doctor should go now."

There's some inane shouting from the group, too loud and confused for her to be able to pick out any individual phrase other than "death." She holds her breath, terrified and unwilling to see the redhead die because how can he -

Then there is no one left. Everyone is knocked out and alone, not bloodied and hurt, stands the stranger. His soft eyes are different, narrowed and dangerous and she gets a horrible image in her head of seeing that right before death. The great Battousai is nothing in comparison and she doesn't know whether or not she should feel relieved. It's not sorcery, as Kiheh says, but speed. True, unapologetic speed. No human should be to move like that. Again, she thinks, who is this man?

"One thing," says he redhead, those killer's eyes focused on the man holding her as her insides turn cold with secondhand fear, "I forgot to mention. Hitokiri Battousai's style of fighting is not that of the Kamiya Kasshin School. It's an old style of fighting, which arose during the Sengoku era, designed to face many opponents at once. It's name is Hiten Mitsurgi Ryu and without the sakaba, it's slaughter with deadly swiftness."

_This _is the Battousai? A young man shorter than even most women she's met, mostly likely weighing less than she does? It seems unbelievable, but she trusts her own eyes and the skill difference between the imposter and the real one is astronomical. The fake drops her and pain rockets up her spine. He towers above the real one, over a foot taller than him. This should be a clear cut battle but it's just not.

"I didn't think you were were that strong the other day," says that fake and here she is, sitting here on the floor surrounded by a mass of broken bodies, doing nothing. "You were hiding your strength!"

Then the Battousai - the _real_, honest to god killer from the revolution - says, "I don't like violence," like it should be common knowledge. And why isn't she moving? _Why isn't she moving_? "But I should've finished you then. I regret it now."

Later she realizes that the sheer energy of standing in the room with him paralyzed her, her body unused to that level of fear. But for now she stays ignorant and watches with terrified eyes as Battousai is one second standing on the group, the next up in the air, dulled end of the sword coming straight down on the back of the larger man's neck. He falls, blood flying, but most definitely still alive. She gives a sharp gasp when he hits the ground so hard the wooden floor breaks.

.

The gap is small, ten minutes at most. But the ten minutes is enough to hold the transition of Before to After. It starts with the shutting of a door, and a name.

"Kenshin." Kaoru, barely daring to believe that luck has finally come her way, turns. "Himura Kenshin. That's my name now." He smiles at her again, eyes back to normal, the upturn of his mouth contracting the scar. "I'm a little tried of travelling. A rurouni never knows where he's going or how long, but if you don't mind that...for a little while, I'll stay with you."

Irrational relief floods her because she hasn't know this Kenshin for very long. Yet here it is anyway, and all the tragedy of the past two months and especially the past hour bleeds away. For that moment everything is -

Something dawns on her. "But, wait a minute," she says, horribly confused, "if you fought in the Bakumatsu, how old are you?"

"Oro?"

"Don't 'oro' me!" This is not a sentence she ever thought would be used in real life. "You don't look that old! You'd have to be at least thirty!"

His cheeks flood with color and he looks down at his hand as if counting. "Um," he answers after a moment, "twenty-three."

Kaoru nearly falls over from shock and this is what marks it: Before was a black depression seeping through the walls; After is the silliness of early morning darkness. And she loves it.

.

Review please! I happen to like those kind of sort of a lot. And I don't think I'm going to do any pairings besides Kenshin and Tomoe because I seriously don't like Kaoru. Yet somehow writing this sort of made me.


	3. Making Progress

So, I always kind of pictured Katsura as an even more fucked up father figure than Hiko was (though slightly less so), which is where this came from. I'm not sure if I got this from the OVA or the manga or fanfiction or whatever, but if he seems OOC, blame both that and the fact that I'm a borderline insomniac and it's four-thirty in the morning. I hate the world right now.

Also,** this one-shot deserves actual warnings** because it's more direct than the first one, but it still feels like spoilers. Anyway, here they are: self-destructive behaviors, even harsher insinuations of rape than the first one-shot, and logical OOC-ness. No eating disorder or anything, for the record. Yet I somehow doubt this will be the worst one I'll write (I can't help it, all of these are written in the wee hours of the morning which really fucks with my head).

Only takes place over the course of a few days like the last story because I want to explore this time period/relationship more.

Oh, and for the record, I'm mildly dyslexic. I just replaced the first chapter to say this, but that's why there're so many typos.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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"Making Progress"

The first time Kenshin makes a kill, it actually scares Katsura how good he is. It scares him even more knowing that to utilize this kid's skill, he'll have to destroy his life. Though he acknowledges this the first moment he sees the boy cut through two feet of solid wood, it catches him off guard how quickly his mind breaks.

Kenshin has amazingly good control over his ki, but that's not so true for his actual emotional capacity. The more and more panicked he gets, the more and his capacity and control deteriorate. Since, if he gets into an altercation with a real skilled swordsmen, this can be dangerous, Katsura knows he has he has to get to the bottom of this fast or he won't be able to use him anymore. He finds out soon after the decision is made that he isn't the only who's worried.

On a Tuesday in January, four months after Kenshin joined the war effort and two since he received the street name Battousai, Okami comes to him. "Himura's eating less," she says to him, "and he never used to have much to begin with."

This is what Katsura is afraid of. It isn't the first time loss of appetite has been a sign of a damaged mind and with Daisuke it lowered his illness resistance so severely that a common flu killed him. And something tells him that Kenshin, being as young as he is, will be much worse. This isn't something he expected to have to acknowledge this early on, though maybe it's for the best; if he can fix the boy soon, it isn't something that will arise later into his time as a hitokiri.

Few times has he been as disgusted with his own mind as much as he is now.

"Can you pushed him to eat more? Just for the next week and come find me if he doesn't?" he asks, and Okami shakes her head, biting her bottom lip. "You know, he's only thirteen. You don't need to be afraid of him."

"I'm not," the woman says, tone blunt. "You just can't fix someone until they want to be fixed. I don't think he even knows there's a problem to begin with."

This is true, but Katsura denies it for now anyway. As it turns out, this is a terrible decision.

.

Katsura promised himself that he wasn't going to get attached to the kid, that as the leader of the Choshu Clan, he can't afford seeing him as anything more than a tool. But that isn't possible because every time those wide eyes turn to him or he catches the sight of hands chapped from too much scrubbing, he feels that pang of responsibility he was trying so desperately to ignore.

"Assignment was completed without issues," the boy tells him the day after his conversation with Okami. Though Kenshin's always been skinny, it was the wiry, lean kind - now he's pulling his shirt over his shoulder and has that distracted look about him that means he's about to pass out.

As he nods affirmative, he tries to think of something to say. Despite the red hair and light eyes, the kid's normally not pale. "Well done," he says before a possible idea comes to him. "Himura, I need to discuss your next assignment with you. It's a little more complicated than your usual ones. Come, eat with me while we talk. I'm sure you must be hungry."

From the wary look alone Katsura knows the boy is suspicious, but even if he hadn't noticed that, how quickly his ki disappears is a sure sign. Rather than argue, he says, "Okay, sir," because there's no room for disagreement. It's a problem, commanding someone that smart.

Kenshin follows him to the kitchen where he picks up dinner for two and gives a small smile at the grateful look on Okami's face. The woman really does deserve more than the anxiety they put her through. Then they go to his room, where the boy hesitates before entering, momentarily losing his control again. Though Katsura is focusing hard enough that he should be able to pick out individual emotions, he has trouble figuring out what the kid is feeling. Whatever it is, he knows there's something severely wrong.

"We have found a Shogunate hide-out," he says after they both sit. Kenshin picks unenthusiastically at his food but it's better than nothing. "I need you to route it." Though the kid doesn't say anything, he manages to make eye contact and his gaze looks a little clearer. He continues, "This is a major assignment. Normally I wouldn't give a new arrival something this big, but I trust you with it. Can you do this?"

In truth this was originally meant for a veteran, but he needed something believable. "Yes," Kenshin says. "Tonight?"

"No," he answers. "In three days. The most important members will be meeting in the dining hall. I can get you floor plans by tomorrow." Kenshin looks at him blankly and some of the color has returned to his face. Since he wants to keep him there long enough to finish, he says, "Outside of the assignments, how have you been doing?"

He stills before looking down again. "Fine," he says, which is one of those answers that's always a lie.

"What do you do with your spare time?"

"Read."

This catches Katsura off guard but he reminds himself that unlike the other members of this group, Kenshin isn't quite old enough to understand the joys of sake drinking. "Do you ever go outside when you aren't on a job?" he asks.

"Sometimes."

"You have off tomorrow," he says. "Go walk around Kyoto, maybe get something to eat. It gets boring in here. Getting outside might do you some good."

Kenshin's eyes grow sharper and he really is too perceptive for his own good. By the end of the revolution, whether they win or lose, Katsura will need to use a great deal of effort to keep the government away from him. Already his idealism is failing. "I will," the boy says. "Is that all?"

Now they're both done with their dinner and anything else will be too direct, so he's forced to say, "Yes, you're dismissed now."

The boy gets up and loses control again and the ki is definitely in reaction to pain which is ridiculous because Kenshin doesn't get hurt. "Goodbye, Katsura-san," he says, giving a quick bow, dishes in hand before leaving.

Katsura isn't given a chance to say anything back.

.

This is the first time Katsura has really seen the Hitokiri Battousai. Witnessing the phenomenon results in a katana pressed to his throat.

Amber eyes flickered for a moment before becoming purple again, fading from attentiveness to fear as Kenshin drops his sword. For a moment neither of them speaks, Katsura at a loss for words, before the boy says, "I'm so sorry, it's an instinctive reaction."

The look he has is the beginning of a panic attack and though it might be helpful to him in figuring out how he can help, Katsura doesn't want to go through that right now. Not this early in the morning when any sane person should be sleeping. "Don't worry about it," he says, "you didn't hurt me." Hopefully in his half asleep state, Kenshin won't notice the small nick on his neck from where the katana connected. No one has the right to be that fast when they aren't even awake. After an awkward silences passes where the boy doesn't say anything, he adds, "I found blood on my floor. I came in to see if you had your wound checked."

From the stain so large he can even see it in the dark, he's forced to assume it hasn't. "My -" Kenshin looks down as if feeling the injury for the first time. His hair is disheveled and the bruises under his eyes suggest that this is the first sleep he's had in a while. "Oh. That's why my head feels funny."

"Push down your top," Katsura tells him and immediately knows something is wrong. The kid's whole body tenses, he loses eye contact, his survival instincts exploding so suddenly and intensely that it actually hurts to be around. The color of his eyes (which is something Katsura doesn't fully understand) is going crazy, turning into a kaleidoscope of amber and purple. It doesn't take someone perceptive to see what's going on because for once, there's nothing subtle and hard to read - it's plain on his face and from body language. Quickly, he sits down somewhat far away from him and tries to talk him out it. He adds, "It's just to check your wound, Kenshin. I promise."

Normally this is the kind of statement the boy hides the reaction of, but there's something still not quite there about him and the tension of lack and eye contact only grows worse. He isn't sure if it was the use of his given name without the honorific or just simple disbelief, but it obviously had the opposite effect of what he intended. Even more worrisome is the silence and the way that he doesn't even glance at the katana, which lies at a distance easy enough to reach. Like he won't resist, like he's been through it more than once before.

The thought of it makes Katsura feel sick.

He tries, "I swear on my mother's grave that I only want to see it. I won't help unless you tell me to and it's just to fix the injury." More silence. This is beginning to frustrate him. "Look, your head feels funny because you're dizzy. There's enough blood on your clothes and on my floor that you must be suffering from blood loss. If someone doesn't check it out, you're going to pass out."

There's a moment of hesitation. Then, all small sounding and uncharacteristic, the boy says, "A samurai cut me deeper than I intended," as he slips his top off his shoulders.

In his worry, Katsura misses the latter part of the statement. If he hadn't, it would have changed everything.

The cut is deep enough to count as a hazard, surrounded by recent, self-treated sword wounds and old scars. Again, the worry stops him from connecting the dots to the logical conclusion. For now he just sees them for a beginner's mistakes. "Does it need to be treated?" Kenshin asks and he nods. "Can you please?"

"Where do you keep the emergency replies?"

"In the box by the bed."

Katsura half scrambles up and heads over, opening the small box and taking out needle, thread, never-touched sake, and some bandages and gauze. When he's back a second later, the kid's eyes are bright amber and looking out the window, suddenly apathetic to the pain both mental and physical, though his body still reacting. He threads the needle.

"This is going to hurt."

He pours sake on the wound and stitches it up and it's the lack of reaction that causes the seeds of suspicion to be planted in his mind. Then comes the last tug of the string and the tie and it's here, at the end of it, that Kenshin finally passes out against his shoulder. For a moment he lets him stay there, but eventually Katsura has to pick him up and carry him over to the futon by the wall.

His body is light as air.

.

This is the incident, in one hundred words or less:

The target is Akiyama Haruto, a thirty-eight-year-old man . He has a wife and two daughters. He is notorious for having good luck. He happens to be a loyal Shogunate who has actively spoken against the rebellion. Days earlier he killed a rebel. Katsura hates him. His good fortune has ended.

When he sees the child, he is drunk. He calls him a demon for his hair and a fake for his sword. Kenshin is having a bad day already and the habit he meant to keep a one time thing resurfaces. He attacks and Akiyama gets him in the side. The killing blow is perfect.

There is no mistake.

.

The next day Shinsaku asks him, "What's wrong? You look like you haven't slept at all."

Besides Okami, who's involved, his friend is the only one he trusts enough to explain his troubles. To everyone else, he needs to look immune to that sort of panic and Kenshin needs to seem mentally stable. If this gets out, it's going to mean a lot of trouble for both of them.

"It's Himura," he says. "There's something wrong."

"What do you mean?"

Katsura hesitates before explaining what occurred that night, though he leaves out Kenshin's reaction to being asked to take his top off. That, more than anything else, is private. Private and worrisome, which is a word he's been using much too often as of late. It seems as if the trauma isn't a new thing, something he's suspected for some time. The boy's youth and unpredictability and the knowledge that it's his decision that's breaking his mind down further has become an unwanted, unexpected weaknesses of his.

Maybe it's because if Ichiro had lived, the two boys would be the same age.

Shinsaku's brows crease. "He's thirteen," he says. "That's really young. He might be letting the attacks connect."

This is another thought that's crossed his mind. Last night he hadn't been suspicious until towards the end, but it's fully manifested now. Unfortunately, he can't think of a way to approach the kid and ask. "That's plausible," he answers. "He needs to stop and I don't know if he can."

_You can't fix someone who doesn't want to be fixed_, Okami had told him.

Though it hasn't been said, Katsura knows Shinsaku doesn't want to believe it, even if he's the one who first put it to words. There's also the unspoken thought of _you should've kept him with me_. "You're being too pessimistic," his friend says. "Like I said, he's young. It might just be puberty for all you know. I'm sure it'll go away."

But even as Katsura says, "Maybe," he knows this isn't true and his number one needs an intervention. If he'd had to deal with this earlier, it would be easier, but this coping technique is a step further than normal. Shinsaku is probably right, too and maybe if he hadn't brought the kid to Kyoto, it wouldn't be this bad. Unlike being a soldier, a hitokiri's kills are close up and personal.

Outside the thin walls, a man eavesdrops. A little over a year later, he will manipulate this tendency and break the boy beyond repair. And he will feel nothing.

.

Though he hates how risky it is, he's forced to wait until the day of routing to talk to Kenshin about this problem of his. Both fortunately and unfortunately, the kid delivers the opportunity in a neat little package of a destroyed body and too much blood. And Katsura hates himself for not doing this earlier.

"Kogoro-san!"

He's in the middle of composing a letter to his nephew back home inquiring about the health of his ailing brother. The girl is young, a kitchen worker, and her cheeks are flushed and breathing coming out uneven. Something has made her badly shaken and he knows without needing to be told. "Did Okami-san send you?" The young girl nods, out of breath. "Where?"

"Wash room," she manages to get out as he stands. "There was so much blood, Kogoro-san. So much blood."

There's a small truth that few people have realized. While many of the men are legitimately scared of the boy, the girls all love him, whether it be maternal or romantic. Considering Katsura's own reaction he can understand the former. As he leaves, he says, "Tell this to no one."

.

It is truly a judgment of character and skill that Kenshin is able to walk unsupported to his room, only showing how many pain he's in when he takes his first step up the stairs. Katsura is behind him the whole way, ready to catch him if falls.

When they make it to the room and the boy miraculously manages to reach the windowsill, he decides not to delay anymore. It's for the kid's own good, he reminds himself. "Did you let this happen?" he asks bluntly.

Even as he answers, "What do you mean?" Katsura can feel the nervousness and falsehood. He isn't sure if it's because of the pain or the half-lost sanity, but all control is lost and everything is laid bare before him. Thank Heavens that no one else is close enough to feel this, though the force of it is so strong someone far away might be getting a hint of it. The thought of this is not a comforting one.

"Even against thirty people, you're too skilled for this to happen," he answers bluntly and Kenshin's eyes are the darkest amber he's seen in a long time. "And I'm sure you're aware of this, but if that one -" He points to the one of his chest, unwilling to even look like he's about to touch him because he's figured out by now that last time he wasn't fully in the present. "- was a little more to the right, you'd be dead before you were able to get here."

Kenshin visibly cringes. This is worse than Katsura realized. He says, "Himura, I need you to tell me what happened."

Suddenly it all comes up in a rush, the boy's panic making him lose his brain to mouth filter.

"I don't know," he says and his eye color starts going crazy again. "I'm getting better instead of worse but I keep running straight into the attacks when I kill them and I don't get, I keep trying to stop but I _can't _a-and I think this is on purpose too and in the hideout there were just so _many _and I stopped caring and then I passed out but I guess I killed someone with a cigarette because everyone was dead but I woke up not able to breathe because there was this fire and I realized that dying of suffocation sounds really, really painful and making it back was hard and I'm so tired and-and-and -"

It's about the derail further and Katsura needs to calm him before the anxiety attack gets so bad he can't get air to his lungs. Besides, he knows enough now; the boy has moments of clarity, he's actively trying to kill or at least hurt himself, and odds are he'll be afraid of fire for the rest of his life. Instinctively, he puts a hand in Kenshin's hair, something he hasn't done in five years, not since Ichiro was still alive. He goes to retreat before he realizes that if anything it's acting like a calming influence rather an a panic-inducing so he keeps it there. His sense of touch is probably what's grounding him.

So, he can do something at least.

"You should've told me earlier." Kenshin's eyes are back to unwavering purple now, which is a good sign. "I could've helped before you got this bad." Before the point that a thirteen-year-old tried to commit suicide, that is. Maybe Shinsaku was right all along.

The boy answers, "You're the head of the Choshu Clan, you shouldn't have to deal with with this. Besides, I want to finish this."

Naturally, the kid's too honor bound to bow out through anything other than suicide, though maybe that's a good thing. The thought of going until the end could've been the drive that kept him alive. He moves his hand and sits down and Kenshin seems to have gotten some control back. "This isn't an inconvenience," he says, "and I want you - all of you - to be safe. How long?"

"A month, I think."

That's longer than he thought. "Be honest with me," he tells the boy. "Do you want help?"

"Well," Kenshin answers, but stops. After a moment he continues, "Right now I do."

"Okay." Honest coming this easily isn't something he expected. "Then listen, this is what we'll do." He pauses, waiting for an interruption, but nothing comes. "Either Okami-san or I will check you after you come back for an assignment. Eat if someone tells you to until you start remembering to do it yourself. And let me know immediately if you start contemplating killing yourself again, okay? Can you do this?" And, because he needs something to convince the kid, he adds, "We need you right now, Kenshin."

This time his given name and the lack of honorific don't scare him but do the desired effect of letting him know this is serious. Dealing with this is a little easier now that it's out in the open, though he keeps one subject taboo. Bringing up his...flashback or whatever it was doesn't seem like a good idea. Simply because of the nature of, there's a possibility he doesn't even remember. "I think I can do this," he says after another pause.

It's about as good as he's going to get at the moment, Katsura knows. "You're tired because of the blood loss," he says, standing, "but you need some food in you before I can let you sleep. Stay awake until I get back."

Though the kid has no reaction, he knows that he will. When he's at the other end of the room, door slid open, he stops and looks behind him. Then, because needs to, he says to Kenshin, "If you ever want to leave, just tell me. I won't stop you."

Katsura can count on one hand the number of times he's seen the boy smile, but there's one there now, small and barely noticeable, only half-existing on his face.

"Thank you, Katsura-san."

.

Wow, okay. This seriously didn't turn out how I expected. I originally meant to have the seconds shorter, less rushed, having a more definite ending (this doesn't exactly end with him stopping), and not this paternal/panicky. I can honestly say I don't know where this final product came from.

Anyway, review please! I know I have more than one person who favorited/altered this and reviews make for good motivation (yes, I am being a shameless review whore but I currently don't care because mustache).


	4. The Greatest Flaw

So, I'm thinking of leaving this open for suggestions, though I don't know if I have enough readers for that. But if you have a suggestion, feel free to leave it in a review.

**Warnings: **God, I hate to say it, but pretty much the same as last time. This goes over several years and a few of the things mentioned have already been written or will be elaborated on. I might need to up the rating, which sucks. There's also one part (called Complicated) that comes in from a suggestion.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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"The Greatest Flaw"

Truth is that Kenshin's greatest weakness is other people. He's too impulsively reactive to the trouble's of others, too quick to act in defense of a friend or even of someone he doesn't know. He fights a war for the benefit of thousands; he fights to save the lives of his friends. It's simple, it's true, it's obvious, and adversaries have explioted it for the past eighteen years. And he hates himself for it.

What he doesn't realize, though, is that he becomes the weakness of others too. It's just not always in a good way.

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**Eight.**

This is when he originally becomes an unexpected flaw, when he becomes the guilty pleasure of a man three times his age and size. For Hideki, the slave becomes his first real vice. The screams become an anticipation, the struggle his release, the small, breakable body his drug. He becomes an unnecessary distraction. Knowing that he's the one to ruin the slave's life is an intoxicating notion. Hideki is a terrible person and doesn't mind a bit. He is also the first person the child hates, so the boy starves himself until he stops being desirable.

Then his purpose is gone and interest lost. Becoming useless is the greatest feeling in the world.

.

More confusing is Kaito, who owns him but feels sympathy at the time. He is not like the other two who crave the physical but young Shinta's reactions speak of volumes of another man's sexual deprivation. It doesn't take long for the boy to become his weakness as well, but in a better way. Despite their delicate, complicated situation, he feels protective. A child this young and sweet does not deserve the treatment he formerly reserved. So he gives him money when he goes off to town like he would a servant rather than a slave, and buys him a toy to play with. The first time Shinta smiles feels like Kaito's first true achievement since the end of the war.

But then he falls from grace and kills himself with his last shred of honor. He doesn't know that the boy cries at his funeral though if he did, he would feel very ashamed.

.

Minoru is less complicated, a little more predictable. The slave becomes his vice the moment he lays his eyes on him. This weakness is like Hideki's but stronger. He attacks the kid again and again, over and over until the first signs of insanity begin to surface. Until the first cracks begin to form on the mind.

This continues until the belated survival instincts kick in. Right before he dies, he is treated to the sight of wide amber eyes and knows he should've put more effort in keeping the kid at arm's length.

.

**Nine.**

Hiko's unwanted paternal feelings begin to grow the first moment the boy breaks all boundaries and hugs him around the middle, having to reach up because of his small height. He is young and traumatized and plagued by nightmares. The swordsmen never thought he'd take in an apprentice this off in the head but here the boy is anyway, breaking down his carefully constructed walls. He waits until the kid falls asleep at night and wakes up at the slightest sign of a nightmare. He flinches every time the child throws up from the food and is forced to focus two months on cleaning the boy up, both mentally and physically. There's so much wrong that it's almost unbelievable.

Kenshin never tells him he's killed a man, but Hiko knows anyway. He isn't entirely sure the boy knows himself whatever lurks in the back of his own mind, what secrets twist in his subconscious.

When he is ready to begin training and proves himself a prodigy of unexpected skill, Hiko finally asks, "How are your nightmares?"

The boy looks at him direct in the face, expressionless. "You don't dream if you don't sleep," he answers.

Though this is unnerving, he drops it. He can't risk losing anymore time even if his apprentice is a genius. He needs to learn how to protect himself because Hiko can't do that job forever and it's only a matter of time before this repression goes away. So he teaches the boy his first strikes and pays him no compliments.

And this is Hiko's weakness: Kenshin becomes a son and he will protect the child until the very end.

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**Thirteen.**

As a mother of two boys - men now - and a girl on the verge of marriage to a childhood sweetheart, Okami is cursed to care for all the children that pass through her life. Even if the child is the most skilled killer she has ever met with half his sanity gone and eyes that change as often as his moods.

On a Monday in February, he tells her, "Thank you for your help, Okami-san, but I don't need it. It's late, you should sleep."

Rarely does Himura come home dirty from a fight, but somehow he's managed to get the ends of his hair messy with blood and yes, she needs her sleep and yes, he can do it himself, but she worries about him. Besides, she promised Kogoro-san, and she doesn't plan on breaking that any time. There's a slash mark on his cheek that he insists is an accident. She's doubtful, but cleans the blood out of his hair and patches up his face. Kogoro-san will be having a talk with him later, she knows.

"You should get some too," she says when she finishes, standing and kissing the top of his head. Though he stiffens, he doesn't say anything anymore because he's gotten used to her mothering him by this point. Himura reminds her too much of her youngest despite his career path and really, she just can't help herself. "Find me in the morning. I'll make you breakfast."

He mumbles something as she leaves.

.

**Complicated.**

And this is the strange one. It spans several years and several forms and by the end of Bakumatsu, neither is quite sure what happened. The man's name is Saito Hajime and all logic says he should be smarter than this.

First, the boy lies and he likes him. At thirteen, the kid is Kenshin. He wants to protect him from the war. Then Saito finds out the truth in the worst possible way and they hate each other. At fifteen, the boy is Battousai. Now he is obsessed with killing him.

At twenty three, the boy is Himura and Saito's weakness becomes a mix between the two. Because life's a bitch, and that's all there is to it.

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**Fourteen.**

The first time Tomoe knows that she loves her husband (or pretend husband because despite playing the roles, there was no ceremony and he's not of age yet anyway) is the night he falls asleep against her side.

Daytime is warm but nights are cold and the two have gotten into the habit of curling up together, wrapped in a blanket and she could never find it in her to disagree. Even in her deepest period of denial, she was forced to admit that he's terribly attractive - in a young sort of way, of course. Normally she falls asleep first, snuggled tight against him and sitting with her back to the wall and when she wakes up, she's in bed again, slipped under the covers, and Kenshin is nowhere to be seen. But tonight, this night where she saw his calm demeanor crack and had a glimpse of the real boy underneath, is the first time she finally witnesses the sadness and vulnerability he hides behind his quietness.

To be quite honest, she feels almost flattered.

And it's in this moment, this singular pinpoint in time, when her denial finally breaks and she knows that she is as incredibly, irreversibly in love with him as he is with her and has been for quite some time. She's already given up her body (it was funny the first time, in retrospect, all fumbling and oh-god-are-we-doing-this-right and blushing silences in the aftermath) but she hadn't expected to give up her heart along with it. But here she is anyway, smiling softly at the exactly-her-size figure pressed flush against her as relief floods her. Suddenly she's able to bleed away the hatred she'd been clinging onto and come to terms with the truth that a woman can have more than one love in her life. Even ones that defy all logic.

"I will always protect you, Kenshin," she whispers into his hair and not too long later, drifts off to sleep as well.

Before she succumbs to dreams, she thinks that when the time comes, she will not let him die.

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**Eighteen.**

Shishio wants to take over Japan one day and doesn't care about anyone's acceptance of him. Even so, it's seeing Kogoro and the boy together that makes him decide that the only way to ever truly become whole is to destroy Battousai in both body and soul.

"I still can't believe you're just letting me leave, Katsura," says Battousai, pulling his hair back, and the informal tone they speak to each other in is disgustingly disrespectful. When he rules Japan, no one will speak that way to him. Ruling with fear is the only way to command, not grow any form of familiarity and this is why the Meiji government must fall to him.

"I promised," answers Kogoro, waving his hands away. Battousai scowls, but it seems halfhearted, or at least looks so from Shishio's obscured viewing point outside the window. "If you don't want to be recognized, tie your hair low. Red is noticeable enough as is."

Unsurprisingly, Battousai does as instructed and the smile he gives doesn't reach his eyes. There's no trace that Shishio can see of the boy he's constantly being called _second rate _because of. His blood boils, his hatred growing. This short, skinny child who right now is still younger than he was when he first began and looks too slight to hold a sword. This...thing is supposedly _stronger _than he? This is the one he's been told he can't even compare to?

Kogoro tells the Battousai, this boy, this barrier that needs to he needs to be rid of, "Come find me some day, or at least send word. And go find happiness, Kenshin. You sure as hell deserve it."

"Oro?"

If he ever wants to take over this nation, Battousai needs to die - slowly, painfully - and Shishio will keep training because is no way that he has ever been and ever will be second-rate.

This obsession will be the end of him.

.

**Twenty-Three.**

First, there is Kaoru. She is seventeen and falls in love too easily. But it's the day that Kenshin first joins her that she realizes she's never really been in love before. She worries when he's gone, worries when he's there, worries when he fights. She once promised her father that she would never marry someone damaged, but here she is anyway, screaming at him to stop as Sanosuke holds her back and crying because nothing is working. The fight is intense and harder than anything she's every seen, so much anger poured into every blow from both he and the policeman that she knows that Battousai, that this other personality of his, is slowly taken over.

And it's this misunderstanding that makes him her weakness. It's a thousand times more complex than anything an innocent soul will ever understand.

.

Second comes Yahiko. He is ten-years-old and simple. He doesn't understand enough and knows it. But he has the same flaw as any little boy his age and would do anything to prove himself to his role model. What he doesn't realize is that becoming like Kenshin comes at a price that he would never be able to pay.

.

When Kenshin enters Sanosuke's life, he comes with a sword and a cross shaped scar and the title of "patriot." Sano thinks the man's like the rest, false idealism and corruption that he doesn't understand accompanies every form of government that's ever existed. He doesn't want to kill him, not like the others, and it takes the guy beating him to make him realize that people aren't as black and white as he thinks they are. Kenshin isn't a weakness, but he's his best friend and that's practically the same thing.

So he throws himself into a fight he knows he'll lose because Kenshin's unconscious body lays five feet away from him and fuck this bandage guy if he thinks Sanosuke will really believe he's dead.

.

Megumi is different from all of them. She loves Kenshin but she knows from the beginning, unlike Kaoru, that there's something rotting inside of him that will never go away. When she looks at him, she sees that there's a piece that's already missing, that has already been given to someone else and is untouchable. And she decides it not even worth it to try.

.

So, it's shorter than the last two but I like it this way. Also, apparently (according to wiki), Kenshin, Tomoe, and Kaoru are all roughly five one and weight one hundred five pounds.


	5. On the Nature of Beginnings and Endings

Thank you for the reviews, everyone. Seriously, they mean a lot. :)

Also, this goes along with the suggestion because, hey, why wait?

**Warning: **maybe not in this part specifically, but hints of slash because I'll do almost anything suggested. nothing explicit though because, well, he's pretty young. Also, insanity.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you don't recognize.

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"On the Nature of Beginnings and Endings"

Sometimes Kenshin is truly convinced the world is laughing at him.

"I'm _not _a girl," he says, staring wide-eyed at the Shinsengumi man who just killed three people for attacking an unarmed girl. And unarmed or not, Kenshin is most certainly not female nor is he helpless. And the last thing he needs is an enemy to save him, but here the Third Captain is anyway, smirking with blood coating his sleeves.

He says, "I see. Well, Kyoto at night isn't safe for little boys either."

Kenshin's hands curl into fists at his side. Normally he isn't this easy to annoy, but in the course of one night he had someone accidently injury him, Okami mother him worse than usual, and Katsura give him a lecture on how he promised to tell him next time he started to feel like this (and, well, it had admittedly happened twice before so there _is _reason to worry). And now here he is, walking around all innocently without a katana because it's not like anyone knows what he looks like, thinking that no one is low enough to attack a kid unarmed, but _naturally _it had to happen anyway. And _naturally _the leader of a group actively trying to sniff him out and kill him is the one who saves him.

Really, this has to be one huge, sick joke.

"I'm thirteen," he says. "I'm not a little boy."

Saito Hajime, Third Captain of the Shinsengumi and one of Kenshin's greatest adversaries, crosses his arms. "That's still a far cry from being an adult, kid," he says and Kenshin feels his brow twitch. Typically he doesn't show this much emotion, but he's so irritated with himself and the day in general that he's having trouble with his body language and facial expressions. He came out here to get some fresh air and just be a normal, every day citizen for once. Getting ambushed by a group of opportunist criminals wasn't part of the original equation.

Then the man's voice changes to something more commanding and he says, "Look straight, boy."

Since he doesn't want to start trouble, he ignores the screaming in his mind telling him to get out of there and instead turns his face so that he's looking in Saito's general direction. He isn't sure what his eye color is right now, but he hopes it won't change anytime soon. The hand moves out faster than he anticipates and roughly grabs his chin, forcing him to look up. Blood rolls down his face. He stupidly hadn't bandaged it, thinking it was done bleeding. And it had been until about two minutes ago.

"Did they do this to you?"

"Yes." It's a blatant lie, but answering "No" will inevitably lead to "Why" and he doesn't care enough about looking suspicious by evading the question or making up a story. Instead, he says, "You shouldn't be here."

The man quirks a brow. "Really?" he says. "Why's that?"

"You're the Shinsengumi. This isn't your territory."

If he thinks that it's weird that a kid knows this, he doesn't let it on. Not that Kenshin's a kid, of course - No, thirteen is plenty old enough. Saito says, "I can go wherever I please. Isn't that what you're doing?" He stays silent. "What were you thinking, coming out here?"

Kenshin shrugs. "Just wanted to go for a walk," he answers, which is true.

(later, though, once the nightly walks begin regularly, that is the reasoning less and less)

Saito's eyes scan him in a disbelieving sort of way before he says, "Right. Do your parents know you're out here?"

"No."

He doesn't want to say he doesn't have parents either and more than anything he wants this conversation can end so he can leave this alleyway littered with the dead bodies of his "attackers." That and he's still a little sore about the girl comment because even though he's dressed like his own gender, looks like his own gender, and for the most part acts his own gender, he's even had drunk Ishin Shishi flirt with him. It isn't his fault that he seems borderline unable to gain weight.

To make it worse, Saito's look of amusement drops a little, like he doesn't believe kids should go behind their parents' back. Either that or he doesn't like the idea of parents not noticing their kid leaving. Both work, Kenshin supposes it. "Someone should probably tell them not to let their thirteen-year-old son wander off on his own."

"I'm fine."

"Clearly." Again, there's a silence and Kenshin's eyes twitch in the direction of the attackers. He wants so badly to think of the Shinsengumi as evil, but if he'd come across someone unarmed getting attacked in an alley in the middle of the night, he'd have the same reaction. "Well, at least do something about your face."

He reaches up, touching the cut. How the hell is it still bleeding anyway? It's not like it's that deep. Then he repeats, "I'm fine."

But his unknowing enemy is already pulling out a cloth and handing it over. "Keep this pressed on it until you get home," he tells him and since he's too shocked, Kenshin accepts it. It's already folded into a rectangle the size for his face and he places it lightly against it. The contact hurts. When he doesn't move right away, the man frowns are adds, "What're you waiting for? Leave. Go home."

And he can honestly say that he has no idea what goes through his head when he answers, "I don't want to."

Saito's eyes narrow. "Excuse me?"

Again, he shrugs. "I don't feel like being inside. I like Kyoto at night." Of course, no sane person would say this (not that he is sane, but he likes to cling to the childish belief that he is, in fact, mentally stable) and the strengthening of the suspicion on the man's face proves that he isn't the only one who thinks so. "What? I had a bad day. I mean, I think after being attacked and getting called a girl, it can't get much worse anyway."

Normally he doesn't talk this much and if he were thinking straight, maybe this realization would've worried him. But he's feeling weird, trapped in his own head and like the only way out is to spew something random and have a person notice him as Himura Kenshin, some kid wandering around Kyoto alone after dark rather than Himura Battousai, Ishin Shishi's number one hitokiri whose name people fear to say. Maybe Saito Hajime will even kill him, but by this point he honestly can't care - (and this is exactly what Katsura fears).

"Are you -" Saito pauses, then throws his hands up in defeat. "You know what? It's your fault if you have a run in with the Battousai or another hitokiri, not mine."

Now it's his time to smirk and later, when he looks back on his actions, he truly has to wonder what was going through his head. "I don't have to worry about that," he says. "They're not going to hurt me."

Suddenly the man's eyes sharpen. He's taking a gamble here and he knows it. "Oh?" says Saito. "Are you part of the Ishin Shishi?"

"I thought thirteen-year-olds were just kids."

Even though there's no facial change, Kenshin knows he hit a nerve. He looks younger than he actually is, no denying it, and probably the defying of an authority figure on its own is a little off. What Saito doesn't know that if they were on the same side, he'd probably be a higher rank on skill set alone.

"Your parents?"

"I never said that."

Considering the utter lack of effort put into hiding his swordsman ki, Kenshin obviously isn't viewed as a threat. He rarely ever is outside of those who work with him, and the only other person this open around him is Katsura. The feeling is bizarre, to say the least.

Saito practically growls in annoyance. "Shinsengumi have permission to torture those withholding information about the rebellion," he says and Kenshin purposely doesn't dodge when he's suddenly pressed against the wall, though it is slightly embarrassing realizing that he doesn't even go up as far as the man's shoulder. "Are you involved in the Ishin Shishi, kid?"

Since he doesn't feel like straight up lying, he evades the question and says instead, "I have a name, you know." The pressure across his collarbones pauses. "It's Kenshin. Himura Kenshin."

There's a moment where Saito is presumably running the surname through his internal list of rebels before he finally releases him. There'll be a bruise there by morning. "I'm letting you off for now, Himura," he says, "but I don't want to see you this close to Shinsengumi territory again. You might get hurt."

Saying anything else will get him in worse trouble than even he's willing to deal with, so he says, "Thank you for helping me."

Saito watches until he's gone.

.

"I thought I told you not to come this close again."

It's been almost a week since Kenshin first ran into the Shinsengumi man leader and here they are again, but on a bridge this time, facing each other. Again, he isn't armed but he just needed to get out and _think_. The assassination today had been especially bad because ten people gave the last man just enough time to scream for mercy, saying that his daughter _needs_ him. And Battousai might be heartless, but in truth he's just Kenshin by a different name and Kenshin isn't as ruthless as he should be.

More sullenly than he wants to, he answers, "I don't know where I am."

Unfortunately, this is true. When he's given a job, he's also given specific directions and he doesn't go out enough during the day to really memorize every nook and corner of this city. And he's ended up on this same bridge about four times already. Saito tells him, "You're currently in Shinsengumi territory," which catches him off guard.

"Oh." He pauses and Saito looks at him evenly. "So how do I get out?"

He refuses to believe that one of the most feared men in Japan just rolled his eyes at him. "Turn around," he says, "take your first left, then the third right. You'll be away from the edge of neutral territory by that point. Good enough, boy?"

"How do you get back to the marketplace?"

He's pushing his luck and he knows it, but he really is lost right now and he can't exactly give the spot of an assassination as his point of reference even though odds are that they're closer. He can feel Saito's aggravation rising. "Just walk in the opposite direction of here," says the man. "You'll fine it eventually."

"Okay."

"Now will you go home?"

If he didn't know any better, Kenshin might say Saito is worried about him. "Probably not," he answers with a shrug, "but I'll head back that way."

Again comes that spike of suspicion in his ki, but it's a different kind. He asks, "What's your problem with home, boy?"

"Kenshin." What's with people and their inability to use his name? "Just call me Kenshin, please."

(in retrospect, telling the enemy his real name was a foolish thing to do, but Saito was more foolish in never spreading this insight after everything goes to hell)

Exasperation now. He's putting too much effort into reading this man. "All right, then, _Kenshin._" He stresses his name like he's humoring him. "What's your problem with being home at night?"

He looks away, suddenly uncomfortable, drumming his fingers against the wood of the bridge railing. Though his life is so shrouded in secrecy, he rarely ever tells real lies. Just omits a lot of truths. "I don't like it," he says, which is true enough. He likes being out here without his weapons because even then he isn't powerless and people's eyes skip over him. On nights like this, he's like any other thirteen-year-old in the city, though one with red hair and purple eyes.

By this point he's somewhat surprised that Saito hasn't left but here he is anyway, moving closer rather than farther away, leaning his elbows on the bridge rail and looking over the water. He must really be bored. "Most people hate their parents at your age," he says, which makes Kenshin wonder more than he wants to. "It's a teenager thing."

"I liked my parents." Though by the end he didn't. He doesn't even like to think about them now because thinking about them means thinking about everything else and repression really is his best friend. "I just...I don't know. Don't like sleeping or something, I guess. Or, well, I do, but I can't if that makes any sense."

"Soldiers get like that," Saito says, which is a roundabout way of telling Kenshin he's like that too. But he's not a soldier and being a hitokiri makes everything a thousand times worse. He should care but he doesn't anymore because apathy is the easiest way to live even though he feels trapped in his own head and alone even in crowds and crowds of people. The man's brows furrow in what seems like concentration. He adds, "I don't care what happens at home tomorrow night, but don't go wandering around."

Even though he wants to at least pretend to be normal at the moment, he's still a member of the Ishin Shishi and has to control himself not to show any perk of interest. Instead he looks confused as he asks, "Why?"

Saito pushes away from the rail. "Just don't," he answers and heads in the opposite direction. And right before Kenshin moves away as well, he hears, "And the name's Saito Hajime, if you were wondering."

He turns in surprise, but the man's already gone.

.

There's an envelope. The name is Tanaka Hideyoshi and he's a member of the Shinsengumi. The group is planning an attack that he's supposed to intercept and this is what Saito must have been talking about. And even though he's been friendly lately with one of the leaders, Kenshin is not opposed to killing the others. There will be no clean up crew tonight, because this is far from a normal assassination; this is a warning.

The kill is quick, five men in total, and no one has time to scream. He's getting better, _faster_, and most of all he's beginning to care less and less, or so it feels like. Because then there will be moments like this when reality decides to warp and every body he stands near is looking at him, leering, and with no clean up crew there's no one to -

"Okita, I smell blood."

Saito's voice, even far away, is enough to force him out of this and the dead bodies go back to being dead bodies, silent and soulless, crow food eyes staring off lifelessly in whatever direction the man managed to fall. Not wanting to be seen, he flees, trying to keep the lingering voices out of his head.

When he gets back, it's Katsura who's waiting for him and not Okami and normally Kenshin has to go see him rather than the other way around. "No Ishin Shishi casualties tonight," Katsura says, giving him a smile that quiets his mind. "Are you hurt at all?"

He goes to shake his head, but pauses. Then he says, "My face started bleeding again. I didn't do anything, but it split open again on its own."

Katsura comes over and holds up the light to see his face. He only reaches his shoulder. "It's stopped," he tells him. "I'll have a doctor look at it tomorrow, though. The fact that it won't heal isn't good."

Eventually, after the mandatory injury check that will hopefully become unnecessary soon, Kenshin's allowed to go to bed. For the first time in a while, he falls asleep immediately.

.

Two nights later, Saito asks, "Did you listen to me?"

"Yes," he answers, which isn't entirely a lie. He was out, but he wasn't wandering aimlessly. And since it's already hit the paper and him knowing isn't out of the ordinary, he says, "Did it have anything to do with the Shinsengumi attack? I read what happened."

Apparently Saito wants to avoid talking about the war too because instead of answering he says, "You can read?"

How many people were under the automatic assumption that he was illiterate shouldn't annoy him but always manages to anyway. "Yes," he repeats. "I can write too and I like books."

Again, he receives that piercing, analyzing look that he stands impassive against. "Are you the son of a samurai?" he says.

"No, I'm the son of a farmer." He hasn't said this to anyone but Katsura in years because he tries not to remember this either. Blocking out anything before the age of nine has done well by him so far, though sometimes he tries to recall what his family looked like. Over time, it's becomes harder and harder. "A radish farmer, to be specific, though I think there was a goat at one point too, or it might've been a sheep. My mother wouldn't let me name it."

"A farmer," says Saito skeptically. "A farmer in the city of Kyoto."

And, because he's speaking compulsively by this point, he answers, "My parents are dead. I was sold to slave traders."

This time the man doesn't even bother trying to hide his surprise. "You're -" he starts, but Kenshin shakes his head.

"I was taken in by someone else," he explains. "All the traders were killed." Uncomfortable now, he changes the subject before Saito can ask for elaboration and instead says, "I better leave, it's probably nearing around two in the morning. Enjoy the rest of your night, Saito-san."

"Try to get some sleep, Kenshin," the man says, and Kenshin likes hearing his real name from more than one person for once. "See you soon, I assume."

It's an actual goodbye for once, and marks the beginning of many others.

.

I hate the ending. Absolutely hate it. Hope you enjoyed the rest of it, though, guys! Feel free to suggest!


	6. In the Land of Blood and Sake

I like pre-series Kenshin way too much. I have to start writing the present, too.

Anyways, Tomoe! Also, if Okami has a last name, I don't know what it is and I'm too lazy to check.

**Warning: **PTSD, but it isn't called that obviously.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

.

"In the Land of Blood and Sake"

Tomoe wakes up some time past midday to birds signing sweetly in an unfamiliar room, alone. Her head is exploding with pain and the light hurts her eyes. She must have had too much to drink last night, but no amount of sake can make her forget the end result.

The last thing she remembers is the redheaded child - the Battousai - catching her as she fainted and the sky raining blood. Why isn't she dead? she thinks. She saw him, she knows what he looks like, knows that his eyes are bright amber and his grace during his kill is incomparable to the shock of his young face when he saw her.

But most of all, Tomoe knows that the Battousai is little more than a boy.

Lying here waiting for something to happen doesn't seem like a good idea, so she stands shakily, sliding out from under the warm covers of her futon. Outside the window she can still see light bouncing of the water residue of last night's rain. Besides the books near the wall and one opened, corner dogeared, the room doesn't seem as if anyone has lived here at all. It's dusty, implying that it isn't cleaned very often. Since from the book she guesses that it is inhabited at least on occasion, it must be a man's.

The kimono she wears is simple and course, but definitely feminine, so hopefully it was a woman who changed her blood-soaked clothes. Cautiously and silently, she slips out of the room, sliding the door shut gently behind her and heads to the left where she heard the sounds of a busy kitchen. As it's so late, she's somewhat surprised to find that she runs into no one.

That is, until a woman says, "Oh, you're awake!"

This woman is old with a small nose and a mouth too wide for her narrow face. In her hair are streaks of grey. "Yes," Tomoe answers, confused. "And, excuse me, but where am I?"

"The inn," the woman says as if that makes a difference. "Kenshin brought you here last name. White as a ghost he was - I think having you fainting on him scared him the poor boy. What's your name, child?"

_Kenshin. _If the old woman is referring to the boy who caught her, then she just found more about the Battousai than the entire Shogunate side put together. "Yukishiro Tomoe," she says and gives a polite bow. "Pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you too. I'm Hatsumomo Okami." The headache is still pounding behind Tomoe's eyes and she attempts a smile. It must pass for Hatsumomo-san because she continues, "Come, we need to speak."

Wary now and afraid she's been found out already (because she _needs _to find Battousai, needs to find his weakness, needs to avenge her finance's death even if his killer is only a child), she follows the woman into a spare room adjacent to the kitchen, trying to ignore the sound of other young women laughing. "Is there any way I can assist you in getting home?" Hatsumomo-san asks. "Your family must be worried, though I'll have to request that you tell no one of this night."

Even though they haven't know each other very long, Tomoe can see that the old woman is very kind. "I have no family to return to," she lies. "I came to Kyoto looking for work. That's why I was in the restaurant yesterday, but they told me that they don't need help. Is there -" She pauses. "If I may be so intrusive for a moment, perhaps there is work here, Hatsumomo-san?"

"Please, just call me Okami. Everyone does." The use of the given name is more informal than Tomoe is used to, but she doesn't think that Kenshin is a surname, which means that the atmosphere is here is very informal. "I don't know if you want to find work here. This isn't a real inn. Nothing has happened yet, but it can be dangerous."

Danger or not, she needs to find her way to become close to Battousai because this he's the whole reason she's here in the first place. And she'll have to learn to separate the man she saw kill from the surprised boy that can't be much older than thirteen or fourteen. "I've chosen no side as to I believe in," she says, which is a lie, "so working here is not something that will bother me. Besides, I own a debt to the boy anyway."

Okami-san waves her hand as if dispelling worry. "He won't care about that," she says. "Kenshin doesn't think that way. But if you are willing to work, we're always looking for help with the cooking and cleaning. Unfortunately we have no rooms at the moment, so you'll have to stay where you are."

Against her better judgement, she says, "That's -?"

"Kenshin's room?" Tomoe nods, cautious now because though this works well with her true objective in living here, it still feels indecent. "Yes. You don't have to worry, though - he left right after dropping you off. He's easily embarrassed. I'm the one who changed you." Inwardly, she's flooded with relief. Child or not, she doesn't want Battousai to see her undressed. Or any man, for that matter.

"Will he mind?" she asks, and Okami just smiles.

"Of course he will," she answers, "but he has enough trouble talking to the men, so I can only imagine how much trouble he'll have around you. It might do him some good."

How fondly this woman speaks of the Battousai is unnerving because how can you feel such affection for a killer? Even one who is, apparently, too young to fully understand how to hold a conversation. If it were anyone other than the most feared murdered in Japan and the one she is here to kill, she might even find it cute. "I'll stay," she says because she _must _kill him no matter what it takes. It's what Akira deserves after all she put him through. "Will you speak with him or -"

Again, the woman smiles. "As funny as it would be for you to see him squirm," she says and Tomoe suddenly realizes that she must be a mother, "I'll talk to him about it. Heaven knows how often I need to do so anyway." Something about the way she words that seems strange and though she doesn't want to, Tomoe suddenly finds herself curious. "If you feel up to working now, you can assist the girls in making lunch. I need to finish getting the blood out of your kimono. Stupid boy, clean himself but getting everything else dirty."

And like this, Tomoe has sealed her fate and the disaster is nothing as she suspects.

.

As it turns out, Battousai finds her long before Okami-san has a chance to speak with him.

Tomoe is walking down past the stairs and he down them, staring unhappily down at a blank envelope, katana not at his side. He looks even more than a child than he did last night, as short as she and possibly even lighter. Before he can walk into her, he looks up, eyes wide with surprise.

"What're _you _doing here?" he asks, obviously surprised, and from the slight rasp of his voice, she thinks that this must be the first time he's spoken all day. "You - Why aren't you -?"

Her arms are filled with laundry, but she manages the traditional, polite bow anyway. "I apologize for my behavior last night," she says, ignoring the actual question. "I was very drunk. The sake was stronger than a I realized. Thank you for helping me."

She goes to continue walking, but suddenly the redhead is in front of her faster than she could see him move, and she verifies that yes, the boy is her height. "It's fine," he answers, "but why are you _here_? Shouldn't you be going back to your family?"

"If I had family," she says, "why would I be out drinking alone?" His cheeks color lightly in obvious embarrassment and how is it that he can cut through a man without blinking but cannot talk to a person of the opposite sex? Okami-san was right; everything about the way he stands speaks loudly of how unfamiliar this is and how uncomfortable he feels. "I was given a job here," she continues. "Now, please, I must deliver this laundry to the wash room."

Again, she goes to walk and though this time he lets her, he ends up at her side. "This isn't safe for you," he insists, walking beside her and fidgeting in a similar way that her darling Enishi does. "You shouldn't be here."

"I've already been told," she answers. "Also, Okami-san wishes to speak to you about something."

"I -"

"Oh," she adds as he stops and she continues you on, "My name is Yukishiro Tomoe."

He stutters out, "H-Himura Kenshin," but before she can say anything else, he's already gone.

.

Again, she thinks that if this were anyone other than Battousai, she might find his awkwardness cute.

Two days later, he says, "I didn't ask you to clean my room, Yukishiro-san."

"Just Tomoe," she says for what feels like the thousandth time. For her to get close to him, she needs to blend in with everyone else, including this unfamiliar informality. She already calls him Kenshin, as requested. "And Okami-san did, so I'll clean it."

"I do it myself," he says before his eye catches something on the desk and his curiosity is blatant. "What's this?"

"My diary, I'll have to ask you not to touch it," she answers and again, his cheeks flush in embarrassment, causing the single scar down his cheek to become more noticeable. From what she's managed to gather, he isn't this expressive or talkative around anyone other Okami and Kogoro-san. "You don't do a very good job, you know."

Taken aback he says, "I'm not in here enough. But -"

"Have you read all these books?"

Just because she's going to kill him doesn't mean she can't have a little fun teasing him. Something tells her he won't hurt her. "A hitokiri doesn't need books," he says, but she remembers the first day and that dogeared page and wonders why he bothers to lie about something like this, "but they're good to sleep against."

During her three nights here, she hasn't seen him sleep at all. He comes in after she falls asleep, leaves before she wakes. Trust issues, Okami told her, and he's always made a habit of wandering around at night. "_Can _you read?" she asks.

From the frustrated look on his face, she assumes he gets this a lot. "Yes," he answers. "I can write too. And no, I'm not the son of a samurai or nobleman. I'm leaving, I'll see you later."

She isn't sure whether she annoyed him enough to have him leave, or if he needs to in the first place. Either she, she thinks it's something of an accomplishment to get any reaction out of him, and not one she's proud of.

.

The next night Battousai doesn't get in until three in the morning, hands shaking and bleeding from what Tomoe immediately knows as too much scrubbing. His face in pale and there's a moment where he looks like he's about to break down before he sees her awake and his face goes back to being completely impassive. His eyes are halfway between amber and purple and she cannot fathom what that color would be called. His cheek is bleeding again, though apparently he's had it for well over a month.

"You're still awake," he says, a statement rather than a question and she stands, ignoring the concern she feels. Battousai is the enemy, younger than her or not, and she cannot afford to show compassion.

(though here it is anyway, stuck in the deepest recesses of her mind, a seed planted that will grow and grow and in the end, this young man is the one she was always meant to love)

"Your hands," she says, grabbing his wrist as he tries to hide them behind his back and he's shaking badly. There's blood from his palms, blood from his cheek, and now there's blood on her fingers too. Okami told her where the medical supplies in his room are without giving a reason why it's so important for a boy who never gets injured, but maybe it's explicitly for this. She's noticed the scars already. "Let me help you."

He tells her, "I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me. Okami-san and Katsura-san do this to me enough."

This is the second time in a week that something's been said that seems a little...off. One thing's been made clear by everyone she's spoken to: Battousai is too skilled to get hurt. "Humor me," she says, pulling him over to where the medical supplies are and pulling out bandages. His eyes have faded completely to purple now and the color fascinates her much more than it should. Even though she hates him without all her soul, it takes a lot of denial to not admit she finds his odd appearance attractive.

In the end he does allow her to bandage him but not without a lot of fidgeting and thinly veiled pouting. She cleans up the blood on his face too, wiping it away a little rougher than necessary and putting a square bandage on. If he's in pain, he doesn't let on. "Go to sleep," she says. "I don't care how, but you need rest. You look exhausted."

"I'm -"

"Kenshin." The use of his name from her for the first time gets him to shut up. Okami said it's something she does when she wants him to listen to her, and Tomoe's genuinely surprised to see that it works.

Neither of them move for a moment, him standing still, her hand still resting against his check. Then they split apart, move, and Tomoe thinks that she plays this role almost too well.

.

One June 28th, two days before Battousai turns fourteen, she speaks to the other traitor for the first time.

Casually, the man says, "The kid lets himself get hurt. I heard Katsura talking about it awhile back. If you don't want to feel too guilty, have him kill himself."

Tomoe stares incredulously, not caring that it's rude. She's so surprised she can't help it. "Why would he do that?" she asks, unnerved.

Iizuka shrugs, uncaring. "Never heard the reason," he answers, "and doesn't matter to me. Just letting you know you don't have to kill him. I've been trying to wear him down myself already but you might have a better job at it."

This new information disquiets her because no apathetic murderer would be making an active attempt to die and she doesn't like the idea of him feeling guilty because that makes him more human than she's already beginning to see him as. "I'll try," she says, and it's a lie.

After all, even he doesn't deserve that sort of cruelty.

.

The day Battousai turns fourteen is the first time Tomoe ever hears him laugh and it breaks her down a little further.

It's some time past noon and she's walking past a room she's never been to before. The door is cracked open as if it had bounced when someone tried to close it and she catches the sight of red hair turned bright in the streaming sunlight. What he and the other man in the room are talking about she misses but the laugh she hears clearly. It's light and cheerful and unexpected and breaks her heart. She's never even seen him smile. How can a boy with a laugh like that kill? How can a boy with a laugh like that want to die?

She feels like an intrusion on a private moment and walks away before she can hear anything else.

.

Not long after she hears that laugh, she's visited by another unexpected guest. "Be his sheath," she's told and Kogoro Katsura seems so kind a man, despite being the one to order around Battousai, that she momentarily feels bad for the betrayal.

What she's been told corresponds with her own observation and the words of others. Himura (and she doesn't realize that, in her head, he's already changing from a demon to a boy) is not entirely sane and what he's doing is tearing him apart from the inside. Thirteen is too young but his skills are too sharp for them not to use him. It hasn't even been a year since he came here apparently and for a fourteen-year-old to be that conflicted, there must have been something wrong with him even before he joined.

She doesn't think anyone else has realized this.

.

The katana drops to the ground with a clatter and wide amber eyes stare at her in shock.

"I'm sorry," he says, eyes averting away from her and she notices that the color has yet to change as it normally does. Her hands are shaking and he somehow seems even worse off than she is. "I said that I'd never kill a civilian and now look at me...If you'd been any closer, I would've -"

Tomoe smiles even though she shouldn't and picks up her shall. "Let me," she interrupts, "stay here for a while. Now you need a sheath, to hold back the madness."

His eyes are wide, a strange combination with their amber color and she drapes the cloth over his shoulders like a blanket she isn't sure he owns. He looks so innocent and unguarded. "I thought about my answer," he says quietly, gaze turned downward. "Whether I would've killed you if you had a sword. The answer is no. Whatever happened, I couldn't kill you. Not you..._Never._"

This boy, three years her junior, is such a tragedy it hurts. She touches his cheek, the one with the scar, and sits down facing him. Her heart is pounding and she shouldn't, but almost involuntarily, she wraps her arms around him. He stiffs and doesn't hold her back, but still doesn't let go.

In this moment, she knows he loves her.

.

After that, she hardens her heart. For Akira, for the one she loved so dearly and never expressed this to, she cannot feel compassion. Unfortunately it's hard not to look at his face and wonder what he must've been like before the killing began. And because of this, she decides that maybe she really can be that cruel because this kindness of his will get them both killed in the end, she knows.

That idea fades quickly. He returns from an assassination the night after next and he's upset enough that his attempt to hide it fails miserable. His eyes are bright, bright amber - the brightest she's seen so far - and he's clutching his bandaged shoulder. Lately she's been unable to sleep until she knows he's home, something she tells herself is because she's waiting to hear he died and not that she's failing at her own attempt not to worry.

Immediately, she asks, "What happened?" even though she already knows. He has a look of intense self-loathing and disappointment and shame that only worsens at her question. "Kenshin-san, what happened?"

There's no _I'm fine _or _Don't worry _or _It's not your concern, go to sleep._ Instead he continues to avoid eye contact, unfocused gaze towards the ground instead. The bandage is already showing spots of blood. "I was doing so well," he says so quietly she isn't quite sure it was really said at all. She goes to move but pauses as he cringes. "I'm sorry!"

She looks to him, bewildering because yes, there's a lot to say sorry for, but she doubts this counts as one of them. "Sorry for what?" she says.

"Please don't hate me."

"Hate you? Why -"

"Everyone's always disappointed in me." He's shaking now and looks on the verge of tears and his eyes won't go back to purple. It's actually beginning to scare her. "He promised it wouldn't happen again."

More slowly than before, she reaches over and moves his hand from his shoulder and then the weapons at his waist and as she gets him to sit down, she vaguely thinks to herself how easy he would be able to kill right now - how little he's reacting, how likely it is for Katsura to think he killed himself. But she doesn't and instead brushes his hair from over his eyes and he's looking at her now, amber eyes unfocused like he's seeing someone over her shoulder and not actually her.

This is the insanity she's been told about and suspected herself. He's not here right now, somewhere far off in his own mind and something about the wound in his shoulder set him off. She's never seen this happen to anyone before, but what he says makes no sense and he's never this unguarded so it needs to be something. Tomoe can't imagine what it must be like, trapped in his own head like that.

_So easy to get my revenge_, she thinks and still doesn't act upon it. Iiruka is right, and it would just be easier for everyone for him to do it himself. But right now...right now she's thinking that ending everything might even be humane.

So why isn't she doing anything?

"You killed him, remember?" she says, again sitting next to him. "It's all okay, you're safe now."

He curls up like he's trying to protect himself, arms wrapped around his rib cage. "It wasn't my fault," he says, still looking down and she can barely hear him. "He was hurting me and it wasn't working like it did last time a-and I pushed him and there was a crack...his head hit the table. I didn't mean to."

At a loss for words now, she decides to rely on actions and again reaches over, moving in to shake his uninjured shoulder. He looks at her directly now, still confused and she says, "Kenshin, it's me. It's Tomoe."

It's the sound of her name that forces him out of whatever happened and he blinks slowly, confused as he looks around the room before the confusion bleeds away and he pales. "How did I get over here?" he asks her and he seems much more focused than before. "Tomoe -"

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asks gently, inching away now that he's himself again. This is the longest amount of time that his eyes have stayed amber and he looks more like he usually does, eyes narrowed like everyone else's rather than large and rounded, facial expressions and bodies giving nothing away.

"Katsura was fixing my shoulder," he answers. "The katana almost went completely through, and he's..." He pauses and all she can focus on is _almost completely through_. "Then I came in here and I saw you and then nothing."

She swore to not be compassionate about him anymore or care about his well being, but she can't tell him the truth. Not about this. "You passed out," she lies. "It must have been from blood loss. I caught you. You're very light, Kenshin-san. You should eat more."

"Sorry," he says. "I must have scared you."

As she stands, she hands him the katana because when she wakes up she wants everything to go back to normal so she can hate him in peace. "It was no problem," she tells him, "but I'm tired and I'm going to go to sleep. You should too."

He nods, absentminded and looks out the window. "Goodnight, Tomoe-san," he says quietly as she slips back underneath the covers.

Her last thought before falling asleep is that he doesn't deserve to die.

.

Okay, wow is this long. I blame the lack of internet connection. It allowed me to run away with this.

Reviews are always appreciated!


	7. A Child Such as This

So, I've decided that until I go back at home (which is in a week) and I have access to the manga and privacy, I'm sticking with pre-series. Considering how fast I can write this and how in-depth with in detail I can get, this might start getting more AU in terms of background.

**There are a ridiculous amounts of mistakes because the Internet hates me and having it actually save is something of a miracle.**

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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"A Child Such as This"

Even before he reaches his house on the mountain, Hiko begins to grow unsure of his decision.

It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, as blown away as he was to return to the sight and find marked graves and a child no older than six standing there alone, whole body scrapped up and bruised and bleeding. Such conviction, he'd thought and while the belief is still there, the knowledge now that this boy has lived the past year as a slave to others who presumably were not kind men at such a young age makes him hesitate. Hiko has seen a lot in his life and the effects of servitude on such a small child looking the way he does is rare for him, but not new. And he promised himself that he wouldn't accept an apprentice with any sort of trauma, but seeing Shinta - Kenshin - standing there like that, believing so strong that after a man is dead that he loses who he is and what he does and how they are just bodies was too tempting to pass up.

At one point the boy wakes up, making a sleepy sound and raises his head a tad off Hiko's should before wincing. There's a fading mark across his lower neck like someone help him against a wall several days earlier along with a dark bruise on his temple. Even through the fabric of his shirt, Hiko can feel raw, raised welts and the injuries on his arms that _don't _come from a six-year-old are incredibly recent; someone's been grabbing him hard and often. He lowers his head again, eyes half closed, and his breathing is coming out rough and ragged. He'll need to check for chest injuries the moment he can because depending on the severity, he might not be able to train the boy at all without it killing him.

How long it will take to clean the child up physically and mentally is a mystery, but hopefully it won't exceed more than a month. If it does...well, there must be a family in the nearby town willing help him in a way Hiko is unable. A couple where the husband isn't around much because he has a horrible suspicious of what happened to the boy during his year as a slave and it wouldn't be surprising if he ends up afraid of people getting too close. And if he doesn't break this soon, then he is unfit to be an apprentice. To fight in the school of Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū, one must be healthy in mind, soul, and body. All of those are up in the air at the moment, locked in a terrible feeling of uncertainty, but something tells Hiko that this is worth the risk.

This child will go on to great things if he makes it and with that conviction he might. Hiko may be unsure of his decision, but a part of him knows that Kenshin will not accept personal failure. As long as he can bring him back to life, he will become a gifted fighter.

Within two hours they reach the mountain and as they enter the house, Kenshin stirs. More gently than he normally would, Hiko places him on a pillow near the table and he looks around, dazed. So quietly he can barely hear him, the child says, "Where am - Sorry, please excuse -"

"Ask as many question as you'd like," Hiko says to him, figuring that he should begin the healing process soon. "You're in my home. You agreed to be my apprentice. Do you remember?"

Still not fully functional, he nods and looks around. When he lights a candle and sees the boy in better lighting, he reexamines the bruises. They're worse than he expected. He tells the child, "I'm going to go get cloth and wet it. The dirt needs to be wiped out of the scrapes."

Despite the bright lighting, the color of Kenshin's eyes are almost completely hidden by black; the head injury must have left him concussed. "Will it hurt?" he asks and his voice is still raspy and quiet - much more so than when they first met. During this short amount of time, he's grown afraid and even though he's young, the emotion is strong enough that someone less skilled than Hiko would be able to see it. If he was the slave of a samurai, this fear would be evident.

"Yes," he says, wetting the cloth. It was going to sting. "Less so than your bruises or the cuts you have, of course."

There is something wrong about the way Kenshin is looking at him, all wide-eyed and impassive and if it weren't for the ki, Hiko wouldn't even know he was even more scared than before. Pain is a difficult thing to get used to. He kneels in front of the boy who holds out his arms obediently and flinches horribly at the first touch of cloth of the skin. His strangely wide eyes have narrowed front the pain and Hiko tries to he quick, touching the child as little as possible. Eventually he'll have to lose this level of kindness, but for now the safest way to assist Kenshin in mental recovery is to not harsh about anything.

Though it's an unfamiliar thing for him to do, he tells the boy, "I need to check your chest," as soothingly as possible. "If your ribs are broken, I need to wrap them." How hesitantly but easily Kenshin (he's getting better at using the child's name already) pulls off his top is enough to prove his suspicion. As was also suspected, there are whip marks on his back and bruises all over his chest and sides. Even from simply looking he can see that at worse the bones are cracked so it won't take long to heal. He turns around, grabs the bandages from the box of medical supplies he rarely touches him, and the boy is silent and docile as he wraps his chest. "It will be uncomfortable," he adds, "but you'll be healed quickly."

Those eyes go back to being wide but with his pupils that dilated, it's difficult to say what his eye color is. Something light, that much is certain. Red hair, light, rounded eyes - if he's one hundred percent Japanese, it would greatly surprise Hiko. In all his twenty-eight years of life, he has never seen a person of his country who looks quite like this.

"Thank you, Seijuro-san," says the boy, bowing and wincing. His legs should be checked too, but that can wait until tomorrow. Bombarding Kenshin with anything he relates to his life prior to this would never have the outcome he needs.

He answers, "Call me Shishou. You are my apprentice now, so start acting like it."

Kenshin blinks. "Yes, Shishou," he says. "What are my -"

"We'll discuss this in the morning. For not you sleep."

Fear melts may into gratitude. Without needed to ask, Hiko knows that the boy hasn't slipped into a natural sleep too often lately and wasn't allowed to do anything necessary to function. Whoever "owned" him was not kind, that much is sure.

Obviously not expecting to get an area of his own, the boy curls up on the pillow he lies on, unsurprisingly fitting it perfectly. Once he's drifted off, Hiko brings him to the mat already set out for him.

And he prays that this will work.

.

A week passes and Kenshin won't stop throwing up his food. It's quickly become a point of concern.

"Is it too heavy?" Hiko asks him after fifteen minutes where, by the end, nothing was coming up but stomach acid. As he is far from an affectionate person, it makes him uncomfortable that Kenshin is leaning against his side. Normally he would never allow this but with how badly the boy is shaking, there is no way that he will be able to support himself to even sit.

For a moment there's nothing because a week has passed and he working on getting his apprentice to understand that he won't hurt him if he says anything negative. Then, hesitantly, he answers, "Maybe."

This is a problem he's never dealt with before since he tends to avoid people and _especially _those who have suffered great trauma, so how to fix and emaciated nine-year-old is uncharted territory. "You're getting a strict diet of rice for the next few days," he says and the kid nods. Right now he's tackling to more immediately crises - the physical ones - but soon he'll need to deal with mental health such as the nightmares and the flinching and teaching the stupid boy how to feel anything other than anxiety and fear. Truthfully, it's getting painful just to be around him. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Shishou."

Having a rebellious apprentice is not a good thing, but at the same time Hiko needs to work on teaching Kenshin how to, on occasion, say that no, he can't or no, he won't. Not to him, of course, but to others. The purity of his conviction and determination is admirable, but also dangerous; if someone learns to manipulate him, it'll be hard for him to leave until he's finished even if kills him. Men like this he's seen before.

"We'll give it an hour," he says. "Then I'll try the rice again. I need to leave you here as I get firewood. Is that understood?" He nods and mumbles something that is presumably a repeat of before. Then Hiko gets him fully supported against a wall and stands, grabbing his katana off the wall.

He feels Kenshin's eyes on him until he's gone.

.

Another week goes by, and now Hiko can at least begin helping the kid's mental state. Physically, the cuts and scrapes have scabbed over and the bruises have disappeared; his ribs, though, are another matter altogether.

Throwing up has changed to exclusively spitting and coughing blood, an issue that doesn't show any particular promise. It comes rarely and spaced out (reserved mainly for waking up from nightmares and too much physical exertion) and after the third time he begins to see Kenshin's determination come back and detects a vein of something that can either be great or horrible. "I'm fine," the child says every time, when his voice goes hoarse and on any other occasion, Hiko would be relieved just to hear him speak. His overall silence is worrying.

"At least one of your lungs is permanently damaged," Hiko tells him, wrapping his chest again. The ribs, thankfully, will be healed soon. "But if this is true, I don't think it has to be much of a handicap if we watch out for it." The child nods and Hiko almost growls in frustration. "You can speak, you know, kid."

The boy asks, "What's wrong with it?" all hesitantly and scared and while he is being exceptionally nice for _himself_, he doesn't realize that Kenshin probably needs someone a little more patient.

"Most likely you scraped it on a broken rib a while back," he answers. "Now that they've been cracked, the lung's been irritated again. Once your ribs heal, you should be fine."

The small child nods and his gaze shifts even further downwards, focusing on the floor. With a sigh, Hiko stands, moving away from him. He doesn't know what to do with Kenshin, as he's offered up no clues and besides the boy telling him that his parents died of cholera, he's had to figure everything else out from reactions. Moving too suddenly causes a flinch, too gentle of a touch will make him to go completely still if his nightmares have been had enough, when the floorboards creak he jumps. Afterwards he relaxes, but the reactions are there long enough for the kid's whole past to be laid bare before him.

So he touches him as little as possible. He doesn't raise his voice in irritation when the boy annoys him too much. He is as patient and kind as he knows how to be, even if it's rough around the edges. Though he promised himself a month with Kenshin or he'd send him off to the town, he knows that he'll keep him on for another one if he has to. It's been three weeks and everyone ounce of his intuition tells Hiko that this child is a once in the life find, as sick as it sounds, and if he can manage, he'll fix Kenshin up and keep him healthy because after slavery, beatings, and rape he deserves to learn something, to concentrate on something.

And Hiko never thought this would cross his mind, but he suddenly knows that it is the curse of a man existing in solitude to wish happiness upon the one who comes barrelling into his life.

As quietly as usual, Kenshin says, "I'm scared." He freezes where he stands, the raw truth in his voice is too unexpected. "And I don't know why."

This is the last admittance Hiko will ever receive.

.

Week four. It's been two days since he's thrown or coughed up blood. Hiko has stopped bandaging his chest.

Now that the physical clean up is over and done with, he can begin to pay more attention to the mental trauma. Before he was paying attention but not to the full extent that he needs to actually help. He needs to teach the boy how to look a person in the eye rather than look away - it will always be perceived as a sign of servitude, of submissiveness. To be an apprentice of kenjutsu you need to be strong rather than weak. To respect elders, but to learn how to spot a manipulator ready to use him. And unfortunately for Kenshin, this is a fear that most likely will never go away. Though at the moment it's buried below a mountain of cowering and nightmares, the boy has it in him to at least control that fear, to learn how to conquer it.

Though Kenshin is quiet in everything he does, Hiko still wakes up every time the kid as a nightmare. The boy's in a different room because neither of them would feel comfortable in the same one, and he lumbers out of his futon late at night, grumbling to himself about how Kenshin's more work than he should have to deal with, and goes to him. Sometimes his eyes are clear and starts stuttering out apologies before Hiko can stop him, but other nights - well, it's those other nights that are the problem.

Half asleep and delirious from mental and physical strain, he panics to bad that breathing ends. Doesn't speak, barely seems to perceive, looks up at Hiko with large purple eyes that seem lighter than they should. Those are the nights that he has to back out of the room to avoid making the boy worse and pass out from lack of oxygen like he already had twice and Hiko is stuck up in his own bed, ki in tuned with his apprentice, and can't fall back to sleep until feels the kid calm. He knows without needing to be told that this is one of the many things he does terribly, terribly wrong, but any other way to help repeatedly eludes him.

So he does the only thing he can think of, and tries not to give up.

.

After six weeks, he decides that he can start multitasking again. Kenshin's beginning to learn to remember to eat three times a day at regular intervals and though his sleeping still isn't great, he's improving. His eyes look a little clearer now and he can say more than five words all day. He starts doing chores again too, though Hiko makes sure to give the impression that if he really doesn't want to, he doesn't have to (even though he does). And what he feels is a mix between relief and pride.

He did, after all, just turn this lost cause into the apprentice of the most complex kenjutsu school in history.

"Like this, Shishou?" Kenshin asks him as he grips his fake sword two hours after cleaning the dishes, voice louder and at a more normal volume than it used to be.

"It's sloppy," he says because while he still feels hesitant in being harsh to the boy, he feels comfortable enough telling him everything straight. "Move your hand up a little - yeah, that's closer."

When he was learning how to do this himself twenty-six years ago, his own Shishou bent down and physically moved his fingers into position which hurt like hell but got the point across. Still, he's reluctant to touch the boy more than necessary. By this point Kenshin doesn't flinch but there's that shadow of fear lurking somewhere behind his eyes.

Two hours later and the kid's got it down perfectly but he doesn't want to say it and keeps him practicing for a while longer. Normally he would spend another day working on it, but Kenshin figured it out faster than anyone he'd ever seen and he knows he can start on swings. This is a small tidbit of information that will never leave his lips because it could be a fluke, or natural talent, or anything that can go straight to the boy's head.

At the end, he says, "We're eating. Bring your sword."

If the kid keeps this up, it'll take way less than ten years to teach him.

.

Normally I'd make this longer (it was meant to be) but the internet connection here is horrible and I don't want to risk losing it. Review, please!


	8. The Unexpected Tragedy

There is a huge possibility that this will be the most uncomfortable one that I'll write. I was planning on doing this later, but I still don't have access to the manga and figured I should do something completely independent from it. So, you get this.

**Warnings: **prior others, weird slash-esque tension, subject that I've rarely ever written (this is mostly for the guy readers I know I have - I assure you, this will probably be the only one and it's weird and written at two in the morning). Also, some OOC. I'm aware of it. But don't worry, it works it's way out in the end.

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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"The Unexpected Tragedy"

Truthfully, Saito Hajime doesn't know what to make of the kid.

It's been about a month and a half by now and their meetings have escalated from accidental to intentional. Planned. Over time, they begin to get more and more common and he starts to get uncharacteristically worried. Kenshin's thirteen, he said, and thirteen-year-olds are supposed to sleep. Then again, most people are and Hajime doesn't exactly sleep either. It's a problem he isn't working particularly hard on to fix. Much easier to take the night guard, crash during the day if he gets too tired because few conflicts happen before sundown anyway.

"You should be getting home soon," he tells Kenshin, who shrugs in answer. He does this a lot - nonverbal responses, refusing to even answer at the mention of 'home' or what goes on there. Who he lives with. What he does during the day. It's unfair because he knows so much about Hajime from rumors and the paper and yet offers nothing of himself. Even so, it bothers him less than it should; Kenshin is good company and Okita can actually sleep at night. "It's nearing two in the morning, Kenshin."

"No one notices that I'm gone," the kid says and their meetings have been getting longer too, "and I'm not tired. Besides, I'm with you so it's not like I'm wandering alone."

Long sentences like this are rare. "I won't always been around to protect you," he says. Kenshin gives a small, press-lipped smile before looking away in the direction of the river. No answer past that. It's frustrating and Hajime is starting to think he's a masochist for putting up with it. Or an idiot, maybe both. Yeah, that sounds about right. "I'm going back in about an hour."

A frown. "Half an hour?" he says, his strangely colored eyes the same shape as everybody else's but bigger. He sticks out in Kyoto - red hair like that, purple eyes that change color in the light which Hajime doesn't understand. He's short too, barely brushes his shoulder. Presumably he still has growing left in him.

There's an unspoken _I like being here better_, or at least he thinks there is. One of his talents has always been readying ki, but something about Kenshin makes it difficult. Foggy-like, almost, and it annoys him that he can't glean anything. Maybe that's why he meets up with him so often; not masochism, but curiosity. And, even more irritating, Kenshin seems to have a natural gift with it because many times he'll _react _before Hajime can say anything.

"Half an hour," he agrees like a fool and there's another small smile but it seems happier right now. It's not unusual, seeing a young person who doesn't know how to look happy. Especially Kenshin, he thinks, knowing the boy's history and all. And it doesn't take much deduction to figure out what he went through. How he looks is evidence enough. "Good enough for you?"

The redhead nods and pushes his hair from his face. Maybe it's because it's been so long since he's been with anyone, but this boy does something to him that just isn't all that good. He should cut him off, and he knows it.

But he keeps coming back anyway.

.

By this point, Hajime is around blood so often that he can recognize the smell of it before he even sees the source. So, really, it's no surprise that he detects Kenshin's injury the moment they meet. He's walking strange too, like his ribs are broken on his left side. He's also scowling, more upset then the older man has ever seen him.

"You're hurt," he says bluntly, crossing his arms, "and don't bother saying otherwise."

So the boy doesn't. Instead he answers, "It's not that bad," which is a lie and they both know it.

Fifteen minutes and a lot of bickering later, Hajime finally gets him to stand still as he examines his back. It looks like a blade made it, but not a traditional one. A knife found at home, maybe. Something with a serrated edge. It's badly patched up and Hajime always has medical supplies on him, so he wraps it in a way to help his ribs, too. There's dried blood on his cheek from the wound that will still bleeds randomly, and the upset look hasn't gone away.

Basically, Kenshin's a mess.

"Who did this?" he asks because the redhead has been injured so many times that he's started getting the suspicious that whoever looks after him is a little too friendly with sharp objects. He wants to ask, but he knows it would be an effort made in vain.

Kenshin moves and immediately cringes, entire body wracked with a single shiver. Instead of giving an actual answer, he looks at Hajime and says, "So, I'm sure you've noticed by now that there's something wrong with my eyes." Confused and concerned now, he nods. They're that color now and he can't blame it on the lighting. Then, shockingly, Kenshin proceeds to say the most he's ever heard at once when he continues, "Well, they turn that weird yellow color whenever I'm really stressed, though I don't know why. It's happened since I was a kid. And I've been having a really bad day, so on way home I guess they were that color - still are, probably - and I ran into this drunk man when I was taking a short cut and he screamed when he saw me and kept going on and on about how I'm some sort of demon and there were four others - I don't know. I didn't want anyone to see it, so I tried to fix it up myself but it didn't work."

_I won't always be there to protect you_.

He helps Kenshin slip his shirt on again, pretending not to see the second wince from the pain his ribs are causing him. He's littered with scars, most of which appear to be pretty old. On his back are incredibly faded lash marks that must be from when he was little and still - he shuts down the thought. It pisses him off to think about and Kenshin doesn't react well to anger. "Well, your back will be fine," he says, "but try not to stretch it. And I'm taking it that this wasn't the first time you've gotten that?"

There's a moment of silence. Then, "When I was a kid - as in, before the cholera - the area my village was located in experienced a drought. People in the village tried to blame my me, but my parents and brothers somehow managed to keep them away. I was two, I don't remember it all, but Taro and Osamu used to remind me about it if they wanted something." In the past few months that they've been meeting up, Kenshin's never spoken this much. Suddenly he looks down, face hidden by the hair but for once Hajime can _feel _his confusion. "I haven't thought about my family in years. Actually, I make an active attempt not to."

By now, Hajime knows what questions the boy will answer and what questions he won't and he thinks that "why?" will be one of the unanswered ones. "Why is your coloring like this?" he asks instead.

"One of my grandparents on either my mother's or my father's side was from a Western country," he answers and it isn't all that surprising. "Some place called Scandinavia."

How someone from Scandinavia ended up in Japan will be a mystery he puzzles out another time. "Interesting," he says because what else is there? "Now, I actually have to do something I was assigned earlier. Are you all right walking back by yourself?"

When he really thinks about, he's never invested this much energy into worrying about someone before, not even Okita who he sees as something of a younger brother (not that the younger man will ever find that out, but that's not the point). Then again, Okita actually goes past his shoulder and can defend himself, two very good qualities in terms of _not _worrying over someone. And, regardless, Hajime is an apathetic man by nature. He doesn't care much about killing and he doesn't care much about people, either.

Then this kid goes and sneaks his way into his life.

"I'm fine," Kenshin says, and pulls up the sleeve that's been falling off his shoulder. He's too skinny. "Thanks, though. You know, for this."

_This _is kept vague, so he'll just pretend it's for the bandaging. "Sure," he says and ruffles the kid's hair purely because he knows it annoys him. "Get going."

"Okay, okay."

.

"You're distracted, Saito-san."

Hajime glances sideways at Okita as they walk down the square, parading their brilliance. The shadow warfare of the Ishin-Shishi means that during the day, territories fade. If it was night, a fight would've taken place by now.

"I smell blood," he answers, though it isn't true. In reality he's looking for a familiar shock of red hair, but he doesn't catch a glimpse of Kenshin anywhere. And the boy's pretty hard to miss.

Though the younger man obviously doesn't believe him, he wisely keeps his mouth shut and Hajime's secret stays safe another day.

.

Kenshin's hands are shaking and his side is splashed with blood from walking straight into a kill. Hajime isn't sure who the attacker was - a soldier, an assassin, the Hitokiri Battousai that the rest of the Shinsengumi are still afraid of - but he died quickly and that's all that matters. Or that _would _be all that mattered if the killer wasn't skilled enough to land a hit and the kid hadn't walked into the alley at the same moment Hajime stabbed the man through the chest. He'd offer the boy a change of clothes, but they're too far away from his residence and that'd be harder to explain than the blood anyway.

"Right, all done," Kenshin says, handing back the role of bandages because he insisted on returning the favor instead of just letting Hajime do it himself. And honestly, the kid did a better job that he expected. "It doesn't hurt too bad, does it?"

In his worry, an accent is coming out that Hajime has never heard before. It's distinctly rural and the dialect is different too, not as well spoken as Kenshin normally is. It's one left over from childhood, he realizes, coming back suddenly. Despite the fact that he's obviously stressed, his eyes aren't doing the changing color thing that he's finally starting to understand and instead are locked into the purple color he's used to. Something's wrong.

"All sword wounds hurt," he answers, "but I'm used to it. You really think a Shinsengumi captain can't take a little cut?" Kenshin gives a sheepish sort of smile that Hajime's never seen before. He isn't sure why, but the boy's personality is as slightly changed as his accent. "Stand still."

Unlike last time, it takes no hassle for him to stop fidgeting. Hajime wipes the blood off his face and neck with the clean end of a sleeve. When he finishes, Kenshin says, "Better?"

"Yeah, you look a little neater," he says, trying to figure out why the boy's suddenly acting different and Hajime's even more concerned than his usual level of not-okay-with-this. Maybe it's because Kenshin's close enough for him to feel his body heat and catch the faint smell of rough soap through the overpowering stench of blood.

And he pretends that his heart rate isn't five times faster than normal.

.

Soon after, he genuinely begins to wonder if the boy isn't quite sane.

For the most part, it seems as if he's all right in the head. Unhappy and a little naive, yes, but still sane. Smart, quick to pick up on things. Sweet and caring, which makes Hajime feel like a woman even thinking it, but it's true. Kenshin's intelligent and mature enough to seem like an adult with a childhood innocence that makes him feel like an object of corruption.

Or he would, if it weren't for those other times when that innocence disappears. He'll be upset and scared with his hands at least chafed if not dripping blood or, less commonly, his small body littered with shallow blade wounds and speaking in ways that make no definable sense. There's a lack of continuity in the way that he says certain things or where his words are directed to because more than once it seems like Kenshin is talking to someone over his shoulder. Sometimes he'll talk a lot but other days he won't say anything at all and that other day everything from his accent to the way he held himself changed. And he's never quite sure what to do when a situation like this comes rolling by.

Like right now, for example.

The break begins midway through a conversation and he doesn't know what sets Kenshin off. All he knows is after some time passes of frustrated "I _have _been doing that"s and "The water was too hot"s and, worst yet, "I'm sorry" repeated over and over, he final gets, "I'm sorry for making you mad, I should leave," in a voice suddenly devoid of emotion.

The kid's movement is faster than Hajime expects and he opts out of just grabbing his arm to get him to stay here - rather, he grabs Kenshin from behind so his arms are pinned at his side. Touching isn't exactly something he's used to and his current feelings towards the boy make this scream of it being a bad idea, but he can't just let Kenshin run off on his own, unarmed, when he's only formed one coherent sentence since this...whatever it is started. And it's here that he discovers that a small body does not equate weakness. The boy's struggling and squirming take a lot more strength to restrain than Hajime had anticipated.

Dealing with half-insane teenagers is not something he's used to. "Calm down," he says because it seems right. "You aren't making any sense right now, Kenshin."

From this position, he can feel that Kenshin's heart rate is beating faster than is probably healthy. He can also feel that though the kid doesn't look very muscular with or without clothes, there's _something _there to make this so hard and there are calluses on his hand in the perfect placement for the hilt of a katana and Hajime is much too filled with adrenaline right now. He's noticing everything once, but maybe that's a good thing because it's stopping some more embarrassing reactions he could have to this.

Really, he needs a girlfriend. Or a prostitute. Because this isn't good.

Then the boy tries to twist around and though he doesn't succeeding of getting away, Hajime is greeted with the sight of narrowed amber eyes that, for a moment there, make him contemplate what it means to die. The sudden internal outburst of frightened and angry ki hits him delayed and it's that more than anything else that almost makes him let go.

But it's over as quick as it starts. All the energy and tension bleeds out of Kenshin's body and he becomes a shivering wreck in Hajime's arms. It happens so fast that he isn't sure if whatever that was is over, so he doesn't let go. When the boy looks up at him again, his eyes are back to their purple color and he seems dazed. More reluctantly than he'd like to admit, Hajime untangles from him. Neither move, and Kenshin's still shaking badly. He hovers, ready to catch him if he collapses. The number of times he's seen things similar to this with veteran members of the Shinsengumi is ridiculous.

Kenshin's hand goes to his head like it hurts and he looks around, confused. "Did I pass out or something?"

Hajime raises a brow and debates lying because he hasn't seen someone as young as thirteen have this happen before and since thirteen is two years from being a man and since many of his fellow Shinsengumi also work as sensei, he knows several young men Kenshin's age. Yet somehow Kenshin is the only one he still calls "boy," which makes him feel even dirtier. The redhead is so washed out that even his lips are colorless.

"No," he answers bluntly because lying won't do the kid any good. He's starting to get the impression that he doesn't know he's crazy, which is a problem. "We were talking about how you've never been to a festival and then started apologizing and saying something about the water being too hot because you've been do that already. I've never actually seen your eyes change color before."

If possible, his face becomes even paler. Then his knees buckle and Hajime catches him, turning him around and supporting him. Kenshin's heartbeat has slowed exponentially while his stays faster than normal and he hopes the kid doesn't notice. "I don't know," he murmurs against the fabric of the uniform. Rarely does Hajime show this much affection to a person and he's repulsed by himself. The boy falls forward a little, head resting against his shoulder and he suddenly realizes that he's been _waiting _for this movement.

Prostitute is faster, he thinks. This has only happened once before and all it took was a quick fuck to get it out of him. But he can't subject the boy to that. Something about the possibility feels distinctly taboo.

"Go home," he says tiredly, unable to deal with this right now because there's too much going on inside his head. "Go home and go to bed. I'll walk you close to the border if you want."

For maybe the third time ever, Kenshin agrees, though it's only a single nod against his chest. They're _hugging_, which is wrong on so many levels. But he waits a moment before letting go anyway. He walks the boy a few streets away from the border between the territories, and to Hajime's great surprise, thin arms quickly wrap around him one more time.

Then the kid is gone so fast he barely sees him.

.

Two days later he goes to the Red Light District. The sex is great, best he's had in years. But some divine power up there really must hate him, he decides.

It doesn't go away.

.

One day Kenshin is upset and oddly desperate. He won't stop clinging and Hajime only has so much willpower.

So he does the least sensible thing possible and presses the kid against the brick wall of an alley, mouth connecting and surprisingly, the redhead reciprocates after a tense moment. He knows what he's doing which is scary and _wrong _but doesn't matter this moment has been haunting Hajime's dreams for weeks. Those eyes stay that dark amber color the entire time. It's sickeningly perfect and there are hands and body against body and very, very little noise.

When it's all said and done, the two decent again and as clean as they can manage, reality dawns on him and he says, "I'm sorry."

Kenshin looks up at him, eyes unchanged and his hair messy. "It's fine," he says, face unnervingly impassive. His voice is very quiet. "And...I'm sorry too. You're going to hate me soon anyway."

He blinks. "Wait - what?"

But the boy is gone already, away in the blink of the eye.

It still isn't out of his system.

.

They have six more meetings before it happens and they repeat that night three times. The third instance is instigated entirely by Kenshin and he's pretty sure there are tears involved when they split, though why he can't fathom. Even so, he takes it as a bad sign.

And then, curse his luck, he finds out why.

Okita comes running up to him one Thursday evening, cheeks flushed and breathing ragged. Hajime looks at him expectantly.

After he catches his breath, the younger man says, "We've gotten a partial description of the Battousai, Saito-san."

His insides run cold. This is a moment he's been waiting for but somehow he knows that it's wrong. "What is it?" he asks.

"I - I don't even know if it's real," answers Okita. "He's young, small. With red hair and _yellow eyes_. I don't think that's possible, but it's what we've heard. Dye, most likely."

He has a piece of paper conveniently in his hand and he crushes it. "Oh," he says, anger coming out much stronger than he intended, "it's not dyed."

"How do you know that, Saito-san?"

Since he can't answer the truth, he opts for, "I've seen him around," through a clenched jaw. "Whether he's armed or not, attack on sight. Tell the men. I'm going my guard duty early."

Okita's incredulous state isn't hidden in the slightest, but he doesn't question. "All right, Saito-san," he says, and turns to go inform the men.

Hajime goes in the opposite direction.

.

It only takes two hours. The earliness is his advantage and he skips the the normal meeting point, stalking the alleys near the location of many assassinations.

By the time he finds Kenshin, the victims are dead and he's staring at at the bodies. His back might be turned but Hajime can _feel _his fear and for a moment, anger is taken over by pity because now all those times the boy was upset make sense. He's insane. Whatever he's seeing can't be good.

But that isn't the point right now. Traditionally he won't attack a man from behind, but entranced or not, he knows the "great" Battousai won't let a silly little thing like psychosis stop him. And, as he thought, Kenshin - no, he can't be Kenshin, not anymore - turns with record speed. Attacking from behind gave him the advantage, though, and their swords connect rather the kill him. The force of the counterattack should be impossible.

Ken - Battousai's eyes are dark amber and all fear is replaced by pure killing intent. It's one of the most goddamn terrifying things Hajime has ever seen. But at the sight of who it is, the boy's eyes widen. He throws all his anger into his next attack and he's never missed until the moment Battousai dodges.

"I - I can explain!" says the redhead, blocking his next attack effortlessly, which only succeeds in pissing Hajime off even more.

He snaps, "Explain _what _exactly? That you've been playing innocent to me all this time. What have you been doing, passing on classified information to your leaders?"

He wishes he could feel a lie or nothing at all, but the truthfulness when Battousai says, "No! I never told anyone anything and I never lied to you, just left a lot of stuff out. I swear!" is undeniable.

"Omission is lying, Battousai," he practically growls, gritting his teeth and even though he's pushing harder than he has in a long time, the kid keeps on dodging. The famous hitokiri, nothing but a child. Oh, isn't that a nice little twist. "Why. Aren't. You. Attacking," he adds between blows, about ready to scream in frustration.

"I don't want to!"

_You're going to hate me soon anyway_, he said.

"You won't hit me."

But he will because he knows Battousai's little fears now and after being lied to for _months_, he feels no guilt in exploiting them. So he goes for the face head-on, forcing the boy to draw his sword again. Unfortunately, the attack is so fast it connects and Hajime has never felt so pathetic in his life. Here's a thirteen - or, no, fourteen-year-old boy landing a hit when he hasn't come close. His eyes go wide again. "I'm so sorry!" his adversary says, but the older man is now attacking relentlessly.

"Shut up, boy!"

Then he realizes that there's an opening on the left side of all of Battousai's attacks. He holds back a smile, aims for the heart, and -

_You're hurt, and don't say otherwise._

From what he's seeing right now, Battousai is too skilled to get hit and the wound that day was on his _right _side and all the counter moves seem somehow incomplete. In this short moment, he realizes that the kid is actively trying to get killed and has been for a while and then he's just Kenshin, not Battousai. That damaged boy with the purple eyes and the best fuck Hajime has ever had. So in the last possible second he switches his target and stabs the boy clean through the left shoulder.

He freezes and manages to get out, "What the hell?"

Before saying anything, he grabs Kenshin's - _Battousai's _- katana and stuffs it back into the sheath because oh, is he going to need that. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he answers, smirking because he's allowed to be a bastard right now. "You've been trying to get hurt. Or is it to die? Do you feel guilty, Battousai?"

Very, very slightly, he twists the sword and Battousai gasps. He's in enough pain that he's blacking out because his eyes are rapidly losing the amber color. "Just kill me," he whispers so quietly that Hajime barely hears him. This should be satisfying but isn't at all because he needs to fully dehumanize the boy as quickly as possible.

"Only in a proper fight," he says harshly and wrenches out the sword. The killer's other hand immediately flies it and he stands there, immobile. "Right now, you don't even deserve to die."

Then the small hand goes off the wound, slips past Hajime's defenses easily and pulls him downward into a kiss. There's so much poured into it that for a moment he actually doesn't know what to do. Battousai becomes Kenshin again and he tries to convince himself that all it ever was is lust. So he pushes back the boy, pressing straight against the wound, and avoids looking into his eyes because if he sees purple, he's going to do something very, very stupid.

"You're the only person who's allowed to kill me," Kenshin tells, and it's one of the most fucked up statements Hajime has ever heard anyone say. "I'm so sorry."

He hits the kid hard and is surprised that he doesn't crumble to the ground from inevitable pain. "What can I do make you hate me?" he says and if Kenshin fought back honestly then he could become Battousai and Hajime would kill him with an clear conscious. But with those eyes, he never can.

"Nothing, I don't hate you!"

But there are a thousand ways he can make the boy despise him he realizes. His hand is back on the bleeding wound. Hajime grabs his hair, forcing him back against the brick wall and even if this is something he can truly never do, he can at least threaten it. "I know," he says, getting uncomfortably close. "You're insane, boy. All I need to do is -"

And apparently Kenshin knows where this is going because he cuts in, "No! Please, not that!" and there are literal tears in his eyes. He looks so young that Hajime can't do it no matter how much wants to.

Suddenly something dawns on him that makes him angrier, but still not angry enough to truly hurt the boy. "Who are you in love with?" he demands.

"Hajime-san, please just kill me."

He sounds so pathetic and desperate that the majority at the anger fades. He lets go of the boy's hair and Kenshin finally slides down the wall to the ground and someone will find him eventually. Without doing or saying anything else, Hajime turns and walks away.

The last sound he ever hears Kenshin make is a near-silent sob.

.

Life's not all hatred and unrequited love. So, here, you've earned a break:

A gap of time passes. Four years until the Revolution ends, another five until they meet again. Nine years is a long time to keep the secrets of someone you hate. Somehow, Saito Hajime does it anyway.

Maybe it's nostalgia. Maybe it's pity. Maybe he doesn't want anyone to know because he needs to kill the Battousai - or Kenshin or Himura, take your pick, darlin' - on his own. Well, whatever the reason, it's silly and stupid. But it stays there nonetheless and rationalizing rarely ever works for anyone. It takes him nine years to learn this.

Because, during all this time, he never tells a soul. Never tells anyone that the feared Battousai is named Kenshin and hanging onto sanity through a last act of desperation. Keeps the knowledge that his weakness is his trauma and the desire to die but too afraid to it himself under lock and key. Makes sure no one in that bar two years after the end of Bakumatsu learns why he vehemently defends his enemy to a group of ex-imperialists. These are Kenshin's secrets trusted upon him for safe keeping and he may hate the man, but secrets are secrets and this is a big enough one to hide on his own.

And, most of all, his wife never learns everything. He loves he too much to subject her to that truth.

So, skip if you will. He finds where Kenshin - or, well, Himura now - is staying now, but discovers him absent. There's someone else though who's foolish enough to challenge him to a fight and he's never cared much about hating others. So he does the smart thing and impales the man's shoulder rather than kill him.

Because it's the best damn calling card he will ever send.

.

Okay, so, believe it or not, I'm actually really, really proud of this. I wrote it from 2-4 in the morning which is probably why. I doubt anyone will read this because it's a weird as all hell slash pairing and my personal OTP will forever be Kenshin/Tomoe, but if you did, please leave a review! I will for really love you.


	9. At the End of Things

Hi! Okay, so this one-shot is seriously the entire reason this idea was born. I'm serious. I'm basically shoving almost the entirety of the Kyoto arch into this and it'll be told in several different point of views (Kenshin, Saito, Hiko, and Sanosuke). Now, **a list of things that annoyed me with this arch:**

- He learns the final technique and it fails like three times in a row. C'mon, guys.

- Soujiro can imitate the Battoujutsu, and is faster after it's already been established by the manga's own mythology that Kenshin has the fastest possible technique (and this possibly pissed me off than the all the other things combined for no reason I can figure out).

- Saito "dies" at the end but doesn't actually do so.

- Whether or not it's been ten years and he made that vow not to kill, there's still way too much of a discontinuity between the skill Kenshin's _supposed _to have vs what he actually shows during the arch. This annoyed me when I was a kid and it first aired on Toonami.

I know most of you are going to disagree with all of that, so please don't flame me. Just ignore it and read the chapter. You liked the other ones. I'm also kind of glad I didn't write this immediately because now there's an added tension of that awkward non-canon pairing, which I seriously grown to love (but Tomoe/Kenshin is still forever my favorite. I think next one will be them).

**Warning:** mentions of suicidal thoughts. Also, changes in the Aoshi (which is only mentioned), Soujiro, and Shishio fights (though not much to the last one, it's mostly dialogue).

**Note:** I wrote this entire thing without the manga in front of me until the very end and except for like two parts, I was way too lazy to go back and actually fix anything. Cut me some slack, I just finished finals.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

.

"At the End of Things"

Sanosuke's seen Kenshin fight enough time that he recognizes how he acts when his eyes change and this definitely isn't normal.

There's too much anger there, he thinks as he restrains a screaming Kaoru who understands what's going on even less than he does. He's seen his friend pissed off before, but this is different. This is _vindictive_ and he knows what that feels like. And that Saito guy, who was so level headed when they fought, seems completely lost too. Unlike Kenshin, he isn't particularly in-tuned into ki or whatever he calls it, but he's enough of a fighter to know that something is wrong. Seriously, seriously wrong.

Then it ends. A man comes in and calls the stop and Sanosuke hated the Ishin-Shishi, but fuck if he's not totally relieved. That is, until he realizes Kenshin's eyes are still that weird gold color and his hand is holding the hilt of the katana so tightly he's starting to bleed. The man doesn't seem to notice, though, and he goes to intervene but someone else gets there first.

Saito's katana is sheathed, his jacket back on, and his hand slips on the shorter man's shoulder. "Calm down, Kenshin," he says. Given name, no honorific. Shockingly, Kenshin really does calm down, eyes going back to purple, and goes back to his normal self.

And this unsettles Sanosuke more than he'd like to admit.

.

It isn't until they find each other in Shishio's village that Hajime decides he hates Himura's new kindhearted incarnation. And not for the reason he expected.

Now he reminds him too much of Kenshin and too little of _Battousai_, which makes it a lot harder to remember why he hated the boy - man - in the first place. He's twenty-three and still looks sixteen with the same smile he had at fourteen, but with the cross-shaped scar on his cheek. The two images clash with each other badly. And hell if he doesn't absolutely despise it.

And, yes, it needs to be _it_. Not _him_, because that's not it at all. It's a version because that's exactly what Himura has. A version that's still insane but in a different way. A version that he's still pretty sure is trying to die even if he doesn't realize it himself and Hajime doesn't know how to act in the face of it. So he throws out the name of his wife, feeling a stab of guilt for using her but compulsively needing to find out his reaction.

"You're _married__?_" he and the girl say. Himura's purple eyes are wide and childishly innocent and it isn't the desired effect at all. There's half a second of hurt but it fades quickly and no sign of jealousy. They're over and done with and he doesn't want to open that door again but it's still a little insulting. Then, alone, he asks, "Wait - when did that happen?"

"Four years ago," he answers casually. "What, are you surprised?" Ah, there is goes. That slight hint of defensiveness and that's enough for him. "Stop looking at me like that, Himura. We're needed."

"Will you be all right, Saito-san?"

He bristles at the question, offended for no reason in particular. "Don't worry about me," he tells him. "You go straight to Kyoto, and become the hitokiri again. I realized during the fight; facing Shishio as a rurouni is foolish. You couldn't even beat his adviser without killing him. It's good that your sakabatou is broken. You can finally decide. I'll be expecting your old self."

Instinctively, he pats the smaller man's shoulder as he passes him and feels him stiffen. Of course, he's such an idiot; their last "personal" meeting hadn't ended on the friendliest of notes. He _almost _apologizes, but stops himself.

Himura doesn't deserve that, after all.

.

In the ten year period that he hasn't seen his apprentice, Kenshin's been changed drastically.

He's sadder, for one, and that's saying something. It's practically a reversion. He's lost that edge of purity too and that's not surprising. But his conviction is still there and his stubbornness and for Hiko, at least that's something.

Then, as he goes to teach the final technique, he discovers a difference so powerful it almost physically hurts. "Discover what you're lacking," he says, sheathing his katana. Those purple eyes widen. "Do that, and I'll show you."

Kenshin's always had the potential to be great, but final technique or not, Hiko realizes that he never can be and that's why he doesn't jump into it. His conviction is still there but it's all backwards and _wrong_. He's too willing to throw his life away or get hurt. This makes him reckless and he needs control in order to be a master of his school. Wanting to die, whether he realizes it or not, is dramatically out of control. Even though he obviously doesn't plan on continuing the line because he's an idiot, he has a lot going for him. People who like him, a foolish ideal he's making a reality, a one-on-one war he needs to finish. With everything like that, he doesn't need to die.

And at this rate, he will.

Then, surprisingly, the boy figures it out. It takes all night, which leaves him exhausted and not at all in the proper place to learn the final technique, but it doesn't matter. This is more important and as long as it doesn't kill his apprentice's superior speed, the sleeplessness shouldn't effect it too much.

In the end, he pulls the technique on his first try. Hiko isn't particularly shocked or awed by this. Since Kenshin was nine-years-old, he's known he was a prodigy. So no, he's willing to die a content and proud master to someone who can change the world.

Except, well, he doesn't die and even though he shouldn't be, he's grateful. Grateful because it turns out his apprentice really hasn't changed that much after all.

.

Kenshin's getting twitchy as he watches Sanosuke fight, instincts screaming at him to intervene but mind reminding him that if he does, he'll screw up everything. He's acutely aware of the Yumi woman and Saito standing on either side of him and he hasn't felt this high-energy for a while. He's pissed off and antsy and just wants to get this over and done with so he can return home (which isn't a word that has belonged to his vocabulary for years). But right now, most of all, he needs to see his friend make it out alive.

Then, suddenly, the fight is put on hold which gives his friend just enough time to recover. There's some sob-story getting told that normally he'd feel sympathetic before but he's in a losing battle with his own mind at the moment, thoughts clashing between worrying for his friend and fighting back memories threatening to resurface. He hasn't been this bad in literal years and that epiphany on the mountain apparently hasn't changed much. He really is about half a second a way from physically intervening the moment the fight starts up again and he can tell that Saito's ready to stop him, which is probably a good thing.

Five years since the Bakumatsu and still the one who understands him the most wants him dead.

In the end, Sanosuke wins and Kenshin's struggling to keep his shaking from being obvious. The Yumi women isn't pleased, but leads them off anyway. His friend's hand is cracked yet somehow he seems better off, which makes no sense.

When they reach the next room they run and he hopes that Saito won't die either.

.

By the time the three of them reach Soujiro's room, Kenshin's supporting a busted knee, damaged shoulder, and his left side is all banged up from having a bookshelf fall on him. This is what he gets for not drawing his sword. All in all, not the ideal condition to enter a fight with an uninjured kid with no definable ki signature. But he has to try because he needs to beat Shishio and go back to Tokyo and maybe even get Saito out of here too (because he owns him that much, at least).

The kid's fast, but not _his _type of fast and normally this wouldn't be much of a problem except that his knee is inhibiting his ability to move at his normal speed. He gets hit one, twice; strikes back, connects, not a solid enough attack to immobilize him. Despite trying to keep a level head, he's getting frustrated - with himself, with this kid, with this fight, with this whole mess that he might not survive. He's barely keeping up rather than the other way around and it's reminding him too much of the Forest of Barriers and (the way the cold rips straight through him, his intuition stripped away) even though Kyoto's mostly out of danger, he still feels like this is a waste of time.

Then, he feels it, that subtle shift in ki. It catches him by surprise and that moment of shock gives Soujiro the opening to land a nearly killing blow of him, sending him flying backwards. He skids on the floor, but is still fast enough to react before he can get hit again, rolling out of the way of the next attack and parrying as he stands. His knee wobbles and he's pretty sure that old lung wound is starting to get irritated again from the cracked ribs. Today really isn't his day.

Without thinking it through as much as he should have, he flies into the final technique, not even his battered body slowing him down enough for the boy to react. Soujiro's sword snaps, his back hits the ground, and he's a mess of bleeding injuries. His arm is broken and his ankle cracked. He can walk, he can move, but he won't be fighting for a while. Kenshin just showed off his final technique and he's too exhausted to care. To make it worse, Soujiro's ki is going crazy with years of pent-up emotion finally coming to the surface and before he can stop himself, he lets out a frustrated, "What's _wrong _with you?"

Yumi stares over in shock as the boy explains a shorted version of his childhood story and Kenshin listens half out of feelings of obligation, half out of an excuse to use this time to recover. When Soujiro finishes, it's much more his old self than his current one that answers in a voice laced with annoyance.

"And my parents sold me to slavery when I was eight," he says for the first time since he was fourteen. "We've all got our damages."

The look his adversary gives him is one of awe and, oddly enough, relief. And he understands, because he knows what that break from apathy feels like. Sano comes over, grabs him gently by his uninjured arm, and pulls his battered body in the direction Yumi pointed out.

Breathing hurts.

.

The word Katsura used for him was traumatized, and Kenshin isn't sure what scares him more: the fire, or the biting of his neck.

He's on his knees, clutching his neck, and barely has the concentration to listen to Shishio's insane rambling. Why he doesn't kill him when he's down is something of a mystery and he has no idea what he's doing to Kenshin's head. Fear sets up a defense mechanism a thousand times more dangerous than anything his level-headed self ever could be.

As he stands, he says, "The people you call food are those who survived the bloodshed and now live in a world of peace. They shouldn't have to sacrifice that to anyone or anything. If you want to plunge them back into that violence for whatever reason, I will not accept that." He's back on his feet now, clutching his katana and there's blood _dripping _from his neck (like teeth nipping harshly at young skin and body peppered with teeth marks and bruises). He's been through a lot in his life and he doesn't need to be reminded of any of it during the middle of a fight - any of it. The burn across his chest has turned into a dull ache and his mind is blocking out the worst of the pain.

"I spoke not of reason, but of divine will."

_Tenchuu. _God complexes have always bothered him. After all he's seen, there are no gods. "I can't accept that!" he says, not understand why he's bothering to talk at all.

The flames begin the swirl.

(shouji catching fire, rice paper crackling in the heat, bodies covering the wooden floors)

"You will leave behind your name in the new history I create!"

He blocks the burning sword with the backside of his wrist and holds back the memories threatening to flood his mind. Right now he has one foot firmly set in reality, and he doesn't know how long that's going to last. He doesn't answer about how he doesn't want to leave his name _anywhere _in history. He goes to attack, but their close proximity and his own injuries are inhibiting him and next thing he knows, he's caught in a whirlwind of fire and smoke and cuts before he ends up gripped by his shirt. Shishio's gloves smell like -

"Kenshin!"

.

It takes Hajime half a second after his failed attack to see what happened and, if possible, he's pissed off even more.

Himura's not dead because he simply can't be, but there's a bad bite mark on his neck and burns on his arms. Shishio's attacks rely on fire and it's the Shinsengumi's fault the boy's afraid of flames in the first place. There are certain things in life that people don't just get over and he's pretty sure this maniac just tapped into all of Kenshin's little weaknesses except one. So he does the sensible thing and tries to attack again even though he knows it will fail.

And, really, it's no surprise when his body ends up next the small redhead and all he think is how he never had a chance to tell Tokio goodbye.

.

Even though he knows it's stupid, Sano runs straight into an attack.

He's not even one fourth of what Saito is, hits nowhere near Kenshin, and the bones in his hand are definitely cracked, but he needs to do _something. _He's not going to pretend he knows what goes on inside his friend's head, but there's been something messed up for the past month. So even though he can't do anything, he has to try anyway.

So he does.

.

Kenshin is standing. He doesn't really remember getting to his feet, but he is and for some reason everyone looks absolutely terrified.

He's tired and he's injured but there's something white hot burning inside of him that he hasn't felt in years and all the pain is blocked out entirely. Then he feels it too, exactly how strong his own killing intent is and it's almost amazing how, well, _irritated _one fight can get him. Yumi and Shishio's adviser have shrunk back in the face of it and he isn't sure if the other three can feel it. Through the bandages, he can see Shishio smiling without a single hint of happiness and for a moment, Kenshin isn't quite sure who he is anymore.

"What a refreshing ken-ki..."

The voice jogs something loose in his brain and he grips his katana tightly. He's bleeding from just about everywhere and he's pretty sure the reason he's having trouble breathing is because there's blood pooling in his lungs, but right now none of that is important. He knows he should be attacking, but instead he asks, "Why do you hate me so much!" and blocks an oncoming blow.

Shishio tries to attack again, but something's different this time. His mental defenses have turned on and he barely registers the fire. The man answers, "I spent the entire Bakumatsu being called _second rate _to a child who still isn't as old as I was when I started!"

So, he's burned and at least thirty. Okay, that works too. Shishio's hand wraps around his neck and Kenshin brings down the bottom of his hilt on his wrist and kicks backwards so he's propelled by momentum, landing on his feet. He's distinctly aware of Yumi and whatever the man's name is are screaming off on the sidelines. Before the man can react, he launches himself into the five point attack, hearing Sanosuke gasp behind him.

Inevitably, with his sakabatou, it doesn't kill him, but Kenshin has a tight grip on the bandages. Even though he's sworn not to kill anyone, that doesn't mean he can't count down those fifteen minutes until Shishio spontaneously combusts. The man is saying something he honestly can't care about or really listen to by this point and he goes for the another attack, knowing it won't be the end but using it to buy time. It's been at least fourteen minutes by now and that's what matter.

When it's done and Shishio's halfway across the room, his damaged leg stops being able to support him and he falls to his knee, cringing at the upshot of pain. His sword is the only thing keeping him from falling over. The flames suddenly burst and he _hates _fire so much. Expectantly, Shishio is standing, adrenaline probably the only thing propelling him by this point while Kenshin's wains, but he hasn't used the final technique yet and even if Soujiro managed to pass on how it's dependent on the left foot, he can still win.

He _has _to.

Even though Shishio blocks it, the attack has caused its desired effect and he can see the moment the man notices it too. He's the only one who can move with full momentum and now he moves for the real final technique. Pulling this off without killing the man will be nothing short of a miracle, but it's too late to back down now.

The force of it throws the man's body into the air, but still shouldn't be enough to kill him. Like Kenshin thought, he ends up broken on the ground and his own time limit is what starts to kill him. The blood he coughs up is boiling and in a way it really would be more humane to just end him now, but even if this is more cruel, he can't go back on his promise. He almost topples over himself but manages to keep himself on his feet.

"STOP!"

Then Yumi is kneeling between them, tears trailing down her face and Kenshin wasn't planning on attacking again anyway. Shishio's finished all on his own. "Don't hurt him anymore! His limits, please!"

This should be the end of it. Really, it should. But his attempt to back up is stopped by Shishio's katana going through Yumi and lodging itself into his abdomen. "You're getting soft, Battousai." The voice is like stones against dried mud, rough and raw. "This fight isn't over."

But it is, because after all of this, Kenshin mentally and physically can't take it. For a moment, as the blade is pulled from his stomach, Yumi's face becomes Tomoe's and for the second time, he falls to the ground. Regardless of whether or not he got this attack in, Shishio's still finished without his help. Even so, he tries to shove himself back to his feet anyway, breathing heavy, and hears a woman's voice say, "I'm so...happy."

He feels cold but no snow and his vision is blacked out. His mind is screaming at him that he has to save her while another part of him is arguing that she's already gone and it would be easier to just lay down and die here, alone. But his eyesight starts going in and out, flickering between blackness and the image of a bandaged man moving closer that he knows is important. One moment his body is hot, the next it's cold, and whatever Shishio is saying is wavering between telligible and intelligible. He doesn't know where he is anymore.

Suddenly a clear voice calls out, "Fuck! Kenshin, snap out of it!" but there's no crushing realization other than the fact that it's Saito. Except that in his moments of being able to see, he isn't the one attacking and he called him Kenshin, not Battousai. More than anything he's just confused. Confused and exhausted and getting lightheaded from the blood loss. But it's enough to get him moving again and he stands, ignoring the life literally draining from his body and how he's drowning in his own lungs.

_Where's the snow?_ he wonders before he's assaulted by the image of fire. He blinks, about to move in for the final kill when he watches someone burn alive from nothing right in front of him, laughing. He freezes mid-attack, breathing in ash and smoke and if he had the capability, he might have screamed.

Even so, he stumbles backwards, trying to get away from the flame and remember what's happening. There's no snow and it doesn't look much like a hotel either and his body is shaking. He looks around, confused, until -

"You won."

Everything comes crashing back down at once at the touch of Sanosuke's hand the sound of his voice. He chokes out, "No," but he isn't sure what he means.

Shishio's adviser is shouting, "He didn't lose! He did _not _lose! Shishio-sama cannot lose!"

He goes to twist around and see what's happening, and this is his mistake. The pain suddenly becomes too intense, mental barrier steadily being taken down, and he coughs, doubling over. Almost the moment he touches the ground, he's picked up and it's hard enough to even half-support himself.

Then he doesn't quite pass out, but it's something similar.

.

When he really thinks about it, Sanosuke realizes that he should probably be carrying his friend rather than what he's doing now, but if they don't get out of here, that won't matter at all. He punches the door with his uninjured hand much harder than is probably advisable. Even if he could use _futae no kiwami_, the walls are too thick for it to do any good.

"If we don't get out of here quick," he says, not caring that it's starting the obvious, "Kenshin'll -"

"Stand aside," Saito cuts in, catching him by surprise.

He wants to question, but both men are too damaged and it'll be a waste of time. Until he realizes what Saito's about to do. "Wait, you're hurt too!" he says, but his warning goes unheeded and by some miracle, that single attack breaks a whole in the wall. So, yeah, even injured Saito's pretty awesome. But that doesn't stop him from still being a bastard, too.

Awesome or not, though, Sanosuke doesn't miss the way he presses down on his leg wound as he says, "I've gone through more of these situations than you."

Before he can say or do anything more than move forward a step, the entire place shakes. Against his better judgment, he stops, surprised. When he looks back, he sees that Houji is exploding the battlefield and fuck, this is why he hates insane people. The floor crumbles and suddenly they're all separated.

"Saito!"

"Hajime!" He looks down, finding that the shake must've knocked Kenshin back to consciousness and he hadn't know the two were on such familiar terms. "What are you doing?" It takes no effort at all for Sanosuke to grab his friend around the waist and keep him in place. "Jump!"

"What about our fight?" Really, he doesn't why he cares so much. And even less so, he doesn't understand what's going on between his friend and Saito but the man is ignoring him completely, gaze focused on Kenshin in almost confusion and halfway to lighting his cigarette. Saito looks about to say something, so he cuts in, "If you jump, I'll catch you."

"Please!"

The place is shaking, breaking apart and Saito must realize this is his last chance. He says a swear Sanosuke doesn't hear and when he jumps, he doesn't make it quite across but it's enough that the younger man is able to extend his arm and grab his hand. It's his uninjured one and it takes no effort at all to pull Saito up. Kenshin's fallen to the ground again and before he can move to do so, Saito's thrown him across his back. The redhead coughs. There's no time for a thank you as they start running, but he still catches the man say, "How the fuck are you even lighter?" like nothing big has happened at all.

.

Of all the things to happen, Hajime thinks as he walks back with the three other men. Unlike Himura, he isn't trying to get himself killed, but in that moment, yeah, he was ready to die. But no, the redhead had to go and be a bastard and say _please_. Years later and he still can't turn that down. How fucking weak.

But maybe that's a good thing. Tokio will be home waiting for him and he doubts that hotheaded Sagara knows how to keep Himura awake and coughing. Sure, it contributing to his blood loss, but it's better to get it out of his lungs, something he can't do as well when unconscious. "You really haven't changed, have you?" he says after a second cough attack against his shoulder. Kenshin's arms aren't locked around his neck like they should be, instead dangling limply against his shirt. They're both damaged, but not to the point that they'll be unusable.

No, it's his chest that he needs to worry about.

Kenshin mumbles, "You haven't either," but it comes out disjointed sounding and, for lack of a better word, broken.

For whatever reason Sagara isn't babbling and Aoshi is as silent as usual. Normally he wouldn't be talking either, but there's no point in having Himura drown in his own blood after living through that shit storm back there. And even for him, who's lived through a lot, that was impressive. The boy - man - says, "Thank you," so quietly it's more a thought than an actual voice.

"For what?"

He's answered with another attack and he can feel each cough wrack the small body. "Do you want me to take him?" Sagara asks.

"I'm fine," Hajime answers and despite the leg wounds, he really is. "He's weights practically nothing. Besides, moving him right now wouldn't be good."

"Why?"

Stupid boy. "His body can't take it," he says. "Especially his ribs. Himura, stay awake." No answer. He's too tired to even pretend he isn't worried. "Kenshin, say something."

It takes a moment, but he gets, "H-here," followed by another cough. Three fights, one of which he didn't even draw his sword. Fucking typical.

Sagara's brows are furrowed and unlike Hajime, he doesn't bother hiding his emotions. He's straightforward and open, everything that the Bakumatsu wasn't. "Why do you call him Kenshin?" he says. Nosy brat. Aoshi is looking at him too, though more discreetly.

Rather than straight up answer he says, "Why does it matter? Himura!"

"I-I'm fi-fine."

"Yes, I can see that."

"Sh-shut up."

Really, he hasn't changed at all. Except for growing. He did at least a little of that, which is why it's unnerving that he's somehow even lighter and he used to have to force Kenshin to eat on days he was bad enough. "Because the two of you were enemies," Sagara says.

No one deserves an explanation to this and since he doesn't already know, Himura must think so too. "We have a history," is all he says and something on his face must stop the idiot from questioning further. His shirt's going the be soaked in Kenshin's blood.

They walk back in silence.

.

WOW. Okay, so that didn't turn out how I expected. I'm not used to writing fight scenes. I also wrote this when I was really pissed off, so sorry if it sounds aggressive at any point.

Review, please!


	10. The Snowman Chronicles

Tomoe/Kenshin, as promised!

No warnings this time I don't think. Not even character death. It's sole purpose is to be sweet. The only angst really are the two parts that tie into "The Greatest Flaw" (so no Enishi because that does lead to much more angst than I want).

Actually, I lied. **Warning: **Heavily implied sex with extreme run-on sentences. Someone tell me if I should change the rating. Also, shameless fluff.

**Note: **Keep in mind that it's AU-ish, so the romance isn't as rushed. It isn't like, okay, let's go declare our love for each other and then die! (though, in actuality, it worked quite well in the actual manga/OVA. I just don't think it works with this particular story and the way I set up the other one shots' pacing)

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

.

"The Snowman Chronicles"

He doesn't know what to do with her. It's as simple as that.

Sometimes he thinks he detects a smile, but she shows expressions even less than she does. It unnerves him. The way she makes him feel does too. Like there's a tightness in his chest every time he looks at her. It isn't a bad feeling but it isn't a good feeling either. Just a little hurtful sometimes and despite his tendencies, he really does hate pain. He isn't sure what this feeling is or why he wants to be around her while at the same time he wants to be as far away as possible. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he'll hurt her one day. He's hurt everyone in his life in one way or another.

Suddenly he hears a small gasp of pain. He looks up from the wood he's stacking, having finished moving some of it inside before the snow hits, and finds Tomoe sucking on the inside of her thumb. His senses are sharp and he can smell blood. His shoulders relax and he realizes all she's done has cut herself. He stands, moving across the floor silently, and she startles when he touches her shoulder. Instantly, he feels guilty.

"Take care of your thumb," he says, giving her a small smile. He's still trying to get used to that. It hasn't been nonexistent this past year but it's been rare. "I'll finish the cooking." She looks at him doubtfully, silently. "Don't worry, I'll try not to make anything too horrible."

She bows slightly - too formal, not at all what he's used to. "Thank you," she says, turning and walking the few steps it takes to get to the medical supplies he never touches outside of his false job. If it weren't for the years he'd spent dealing with his own illnesses or injuries, this never would have worked. He learned quickly that Tomoe had little knowledge about healing outside of household remedies but she picked up on it fast and made the worker neater than he ever could.

Methodically, he cuts up the radishes and forgoes any attempt to remember why this feels so familiar. Tomoe appears again a moment later, dark brown eyes looking at him imploringly. As much as he hates to admit it, he's embarrassed that the two of them are the same height. He hopes he has some growing left in him and that Shishou wasn't right when he said he would probably end up small because he wasn't fed enough before his training.

She says, "I can take over again if you'd like," in a voice as soft as a child. Other women in the inn were nearly as loud and boisterous as the men, caught up by their own freedom and he remembers what that feels like. Tomoe's more like that one geisha who's friends with Katsura.

He knows he should tell her either yes or no, but something stops him. "Do you want to work together?" he asks instead and it takes legitimate effort to stop his cheeks from coloring. He quickly looks down, averting his gaze. "I - I just mean that it might be difficult for you to cut with a hurt thumb and -"

Then he hears it. The quiet laughter that's even rarer than her smiles and he never quite knows how to act when faced with it. "I understand," she says and he sneaks a glance. She's no longer laughing, but there's the slightest upturn of her lips that causes that weird, tight feeling in his chest again. As she gathers some of the radishes to mix with the soup, she continues, "It will go faster that way anyway."

The preparation of this meal and the consumption of it should finish in silence as it usually does because neither have much to say and he's too awkward to even try, but he suddenly says, "I'm sorry we aren't able to get better food."

She looks up as she stirs the soup and he finishes cutting up the radish stems. It was forced into him at a young age to use everything to given to him, to leave nothing for granted, though he can't remember exactly when the lesson was first taught. This lack of memory should scare him, but it rarely bothers him. On the contrary, he tries not to think about. So what's bringing this on now?

"It doesn't bother me," she tells him. "Why do you ask?"

He's embarrassed again. This isn't an unusual feeling as it happens easily, but this is a different type. And it frustrates him because he doesn't _get_ it. "Well," he answers, still avoiding her gaze, "it's just that you're probably used to more, and better."

"Because my father was a samurai?" He nods and the battle against blushing is officially lost. He shouldn't have said anything. "I suppose that's true, but...I don't mind. Do you?"

There's a quiet moment before he answers because for once, he doesn't feel like lying. "I don't really like eating," he says, knowing that he sounds like a fool and wondering why he cares so much about what she thinks of him. "I was very sick when my training began and I couldn't hold much down. My shishou eventually taught me that it was necessary, but now that I'm away, I forget."

She blinks and he realizes that this is most he's ever said to her at one time. But it's one of his more talkative days for the first time in a while, which, now that he thinks about it, scares him. When he gets too much energy, bad things tend to happen. "No wonder you're so little," she tells him in a stronger voice than he's used to and there's an edge of teasing. The embarrassment doubles. "I apologize, that wasn't unwarranted."

"You don't need to apologize. I've gotten it since I was young, I'm used to it."

"Really?"

"In the beginning, no one took me seriously. Everyone made fun of me. Some still do."

"Doesn't it bother you?"

He gives no answer, but he knows she understands anyway.

.

Suddenly, one early night, she bursts out, "I hate winter!"

He looks up at her in surprise from his place on the floor where he tends the fire. He has the thinner blanket wrapped around his shoulders and her sleepwear is not nearly warm enough for this weather. "What?" he asks, confused because Tomoe's never complained in front of him before.

"I'm from much farther south than this," she explains and this he already knows and finally makes the connection. "It's much warmer there this time of year. I'm not used to this kind of cold."

He, who is from much further north than both here and Kyoto, is unfazed by the weather. Then he makes a spontaneous decision, unsure whether or not this is considered remotely decent because they aren't really married, and holds out one arm. "You'll be warmer over here," he says, feeling dumb.

There's an obvious hesitation and she must be very desperate because she does come over, fitting perfectly in his outstretched arm. She takes that side of the blanket for him and he lets go, deciding he shouldn't be touchy, and they pull the fabric together. Two bodies so close together instantly heats up their small area, especially with such proximity to the fire. Simultaneously, they lean back against the wall. She still smells of white plum.

For a while they sit like this, saying nothing. It doesn't feel as awkward as he thought it would and gradually he relaxes. Her shoulders no longer feel tense either and eventually she begins to nod off. Once she finally does, she falls against his side, body loose and boneless, ki more serene and subdued than usual. He allows them to stay in this position for a moment or two before he picks her up gently as to not wake her, and lays her down under the covers of their futon, moving it closer to the fire that he swears he isn't scared of in any way.

When the flames finally go down, he falls asleep himself, curled up against the cold wooden walls.

.

Kenshin, unwilling to subject Tomoe to the outside while it's snowing this thickly, went on the house call on his own. When he comes back he's shivering and wet, reminded very strongly of his training days. By this point his nostalgia is a dull ache, but moment like this bring it back with full force. Tomoe's eyes widen slightly at the sight of him and she grabs a towel, rushing over to him as he shuts the door.

"Take down your hair and start drying it off," she tells him and it isn't the first direct order she's given him. Normally it's _eat more_ or _go to sleep, Kenshin_. "And go sit by the fire, I'll find your other yukata."

He nods, teeth chattering too much for him to really say anything or do anything but numbly listen to her. As he takes a seat by the fire, he pulls out the tie holding back his hair and begins toweling it dry, noting that it's getting longer and he needs to cut it. When it gets too long, it gets too heavy and it gives him headaches. She returns a moment later with a change of clothes before quickly disappearing to the other side of the house, busying herself with something that allows her to stay turned around. It's how they change; he's too embarrassed to either see her or have her see his wreck of a body.

"I'm done," he says as he finishes, leaving his hair down so it'll try faster, though he's gotten out the most of the moisture. She turns and he's standing now, hanging up the wet yukata on the clothes line they have by the fire. He's still freezing but he's taken control of the shivering. Cold doesn't bother him so much. "Thank you, Tomoe-san."

It's then that he notices how strangely she's looking at him. Before he can ask what's wrong, she says, "We can sit by the fire again, if you'd like," and her cheeks are dusted a light pink. She's blushing. They are two of the most uncomfortable people ever and he's self-aware enough to understand this. He nods, failing to find words, and she picks up the thicker blanket. He situates himself so he's closer to the wall and she comes over, taking her place and they mimic that fortnight ago, curling up together.

Her body is warm and he feels better. It's not just the heat either, but also her closeness. Early on, it made him shaky and nervous but lately it's been something closer to comforting even though it hurts at the same time. And that hurt is something he's beginning to understand but denies fiercely because he should never subject anyone to that. He doesn't deserve anyone either. Not with his hands so stained with blood and only a few months ago proved that (he doesn't like to think about that either because repression really is his best friend).

"You're warming up," she murmurs, words almost too soft to really exist. Shishou used to say it sounded like he was hearing thoughts rather than Kenshin really speaking and sometimes he feels like that's what they're doing to each other. A little clearer, she adds, "Are you feeling better?"

He tries out that smile again. "Yes," he answers and then decides to take another risk.

It's tentative, but when he takes her smaller hand in his, she doesn't object. Instead she laces their fingers together and sends a small smile of his own. It's simple and borderline meaningless but the pain is causes is so strong it feels physical.

.

The blanket becomes something of a ritual, even on nights when the temperature isn't quite as cold. And about too weeks in, he doesn't know what possess him, but he turns to the side and kisses her.

There's a moment where nothing happens and he goes to pull away and apologize profusely, but to his great surprise, she reciprocates. It's obvious she's never done anything like this before and he goes about it slowly, also trying not make it seem like he's particularly _used _to this even though he has been since he was -

When it ends, he pulls back first and her eyes open, staring at him. He stills wants to say he's sorry but the words catch in his throat because she doesn't seem afraid. "Oh," she says weakly.

"Yeah," he answers, which isn't much of anything at all.

Then she hesitantly moves in again and for a moment, everything disappears. It's just the the unofficial Himura couple kissing in the warmth of a small house, the rest of the world no longer existing.

And in this moment, the pain fades away.

.

It feels like everything progresses quickly, even if it doesn't in actuality and, well, he's _done _it but in a lot of aspects he really is still virgin. She is too and it's fumbling and too nervous to mimic what - Or, not really because it _is _different and she's female and he's not -

He's scared still too even though it makes no sense because he's in control so it's completely different and he doesn't want to make it seem like he has any experience at all because it's _uncomfortable _and he doesn't _really _and it surprises him a lot because it's _backwards _and it's obvious that he's doing something right because it hurts at first but he tries to be gentle and not freak out and she _likes _it and ohwhataretheydoing and just fuck.

After it's over the two of them don't look at each other and both their faces are bright red. He's lying down for once and they're facing in opposite directions and it still feels all backwards and wrong but right at the same time and he's used to confusion but this is confusion on a whole new level. And embarrassment, that too. And, shockingly, he doesn't remember exactly why he knew what he was doing or what he was thinking or why it feels all backwards and wrong (because he doesn't remember that for the equivalent to eight months it was all he knew but worse and terrible reversed) and that scares him.

But what gets him even more is when, after some undetermined amount of time passes, he feels a hand touch his arm. He turns, even more confused than before and it slips into his, fingers laced again. He tries to say, "I -" but it dies right there.

The smile she gives him is nervous. "Me too," she tells him.

Not sure what else to do, he scoots closer and moves to he lies on his back. She stays on his side and slips up against him, using his chest as a pillow. In the dying light, he doubts she noticed all the scars. He also thinks that how loudly his heart is beating will keep her awake but as it slows and steadies out, she drifts off and he's forced to admit it.

Damn it all to hell, but he's madly in love with this woman and nothing can change that.

.

"I raised my little brother. His name is Enishi."

Her voice is as soft as it originally was. They're curled up against the wall in their blanket, hiding from the white world outside and the falling sky. Now that everything has happened, social norms have been thrown to wind and they sit tangled together. Her words are unexpected but appreciated because he hates hearing nothing but the crackling fire. Though they don't talk much, there's always something small for him to hear but today there's nothing. The snow is muting the world.

He doesn't say anything and she continues, "My mother died in childbirth and my father was distant, so I raised him even though we're not far apart. He's twelve right now. I know you're only three years older, but you don't seem it. I think it's my fault, but he still acts very young. I was five and thought the best thing to do was shelter him."

Though she's never talked about her family before, he does remember her saying she has no family and takes note of the present tense. "Why did you come to Kyoto?" he asks and shivers at the gust of the wind that comes through the thin walls. It's colder than usual.

"My father and I came to a disagreement," she answers. Her grip on his hand has tightened slightly. "Part of it was about Enishi. He said I wasn't raising him to be enough of man and I was going to ruin him. I knew this argument was going to come soon enough and thought that if I were to be married, my husband could do what I was unable to. And...well, originally that was going to happen, but when this happened it was no longer a possibility.

"I was engaged. His name was Akira. I know the village people think that I'm cold, but I'm just not very good at showing how I feel and I was never able to express to Akira my own feeling. He went to Kyoto to prove himself and was killed. After that argument, I wasn't quite disowned but I knew that for at a while at least, I was no longer welcome. I could think of nowhere else to go when I left. Then I met you and, I don't know. It's better now. Somehow. I thought I'd forgotten how to smile."

Kenshin doesn't understand much about love, but he knows a lot of about heartbreak. Normally it's his own fault and he should have known that there was something like this. He feels like a replacement suddenly, any growing feeling of hope shattered but that doesn't mean he's stopped loving her. And though he doesn't say this, he tells her, "I'll always protect your happiness, Tomoe."

She touches his face, right on the scar, and smiles but there are tears in her eyes.

"Thank you, Kenshin."

.

There's something wrong with him. He's known this for a while now and feels guilty because so many people have tried to _help _him - Shishou, Katsura, Okami, He Who Will Not Be Mentioned Ever - but right now he has to confront it in a way that he hasn't had to before.

When he wakes up, he's lying on the futon with a shaking Tomoe bending over him, her normally apathetic expression twisted with worry. After he opens his eyes, dazed, Tomoe leans back so that she's sitting on her knees and he forces himself into sitting position, trying to ignore the splitting headache. "Did I pass out?" he asks, confused because the last thing he remembers is reaching up to get one of the clay bowls they stupidly put up on the shelf closest to ceiling when both are too short to reach it. Then he notices that his arm hurts and when he looks down, he sees that it's bandaged. Outside still has the lightness of early morning. "What happened?"

"I don't know," she answers, pressing her fingers to her lips. "You couldn't reach the bowl and it fell and broke and then I'm not really sure. You froze and started saying something about - well, you were speaking Japanese but your accent was different and I didn't recognize half of the words but you mentioned that someone was going to hurt you and -" There's a catch her voice, a shake of her shoulders and he feels so guilty that his mind has shut itself down. "Kenshin, you just stopped breathing because you were panicking and passed out. I caught you and you're so light. I brought you over here and fixed up your arm where the clay had cut it but what happened? What was that? You were terrified."

He feels numb when he says, "I don't remember." She's not crying again but looks about to. "I barely remember anything before the age of nine and - well, my family were farmers so I spoke differently and I guess it was that. I'm so sorry for scaring you."

Suddenly her arms are around his neck and he doesn't know what else to do, so he hugs her back. She's not shaking, but she's definitely afraid. Not _of _him, though, he realizes, but _for _him. "I tried to talk you out of it," she tells him, voice muffled by his shoulder. "I called you Kenshin and you looked at me like you didn't know yourself."

It's a struggle, trying to remember why that could by, but all he comes up with is the name _Shinta_. He doesn't understand who that is or what it means. A brother, maybe?

(it's always worse in the aftermath and his mind is disconnected worse than usual)

He goes to apologize again, but she says, "I lied to you, before."

"What?"

"When you 'passed out' that day you were stabbed in the shoulder. You didn't faint. You froze up and said you were doing so well and I got you over to the windowsill. I could actually understand you then, and when you came to I thought it wasn't a good idea to tell you the truth. I should have. I'm so sorry."

That he remembers, or at least the beginning and the end. "I should be the one who's apologizing," he says, finding his voice. "I scared you. I understand why you lied and I'd explain but I can't. I'm sorry I put you through this. Twice."

Now she leans back again and reaches up, brushing his hair from his face. "If it happens again, I won't lie to you," she says. "It's going to be all right. I promise."

"Okay."

The experience drains him though, and later, when they sit inside their cocoon of a blanket, he can't keep his eyes open. Before he officially drifts off, he hears, "I will always protect you, Kenshin."

He's probably imagining it, but it's still nice.

.

"Have you ever had a snowball fight, Kenshin?"

The two of them are nearly to their home, wet from the snow even though it isn't quite as cold as usual. "No," he answers. "Why?"

She's shivering but doesn't seem particularly bothered by it for once. She tells him, "When I was thirteen there was the worst snow storm my area had in nearly twenty years and I brought Enishi out to play with the other boys. Then today I saw the children here and I don't know. I realized I never have."

"I haven't either," he says. Then he repeats, "Why?"

To his surprise, she bends down, gathering snow in her hand and forming it. "This," she says as she compact it together, "is how you make a snowball."

Their small house is secluded, on top of a hill and mostly hidden from view of others so it won't arose suspicion if they act like children. Or at least this is his reasoning when he picks up a clump of snow and mimics her actions. "Like this?"

"Just like that."

He feels her body move and blinks, looking up, which gives him just enough time to dodge an oncoming snowball. Instinctively, he throws the one in his hand back and hears a yelp followed swiftly by laughter. Tomoe's cheeks and lips are flushed red from the cold and she's already forming another snowball. In all this time with her, he's never seen her look so happy. "You want to have a fight?" he says, smile slowly coming to him as well. "With me?"

"Why not?" she says, throwing the second snowball and he dodges, scooping up more white fluff to retaliate. He feels giddy and stupid and very young. "Just pretend that it's fair!"

So he does.

After it ends, the two are lying on their futon, pressed close and shivering with the heavy blanket beginning to provide warmth. They're laughing again, the unfamiliar sound bouncing around the wooden walls. And when the laughter fades and they're left breathless and smiling, he tells her, "I love you."

There's his heart, laid bare between them and he gives her the change to break it. But then she doesn't.

"I love you too," she says and for a while they lay there, quiet.

And Kenshin feels happy.

.

I just saw _The Hobbit _for the second time with my mom and needed something cheerful and I only had that ending part left. Also, shameless story promotion! Basically, I got really bored and have half of a modernized Tomoe/Kenshin story coming up because I'll probably finish within the next day or so. And, I do not feel bad to this in the slightest. The RK archive doesn't get enough love.

Happy whatever-you-celebrate!


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